


Miscellaneous Trek alternate universes

by Worffan101



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossposted from AH.com, Crossposted from Fanfiction.net, Episode rewrites and AU fics, Historical References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: Collected one-shots, episode rewrites, and other AU material that I've done elsewhere.  Posted here at the request of AXEe.  :)Contains both episode/scene rewrites and full-on stories.





	1. (AU fic) The Last Flight of the "Sulu".

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AXEe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a TNG alternate universe. The point of divergence is the Cardassian regime pressing border claims with the Federation a couple of years before season 1 TNG. Caught flat-footed and in the middle of a conflict with the Talarian Republic, the Federation is forced to halt production on the Galaxy-class starships in favor of older designs to hold back the Cardassian tide; thus, the Enterprise is not yet finished as of mid-season 1. 
> 
> This story is loosely based on the Battle off Samar during WW2, wherein a small group of poorly-armed US destroyers successfully took on and defeated the pride of the Imperial Japanese Navy, including the superbattleship Yamato.

_Stardate 41255.6. Federation starship_ Hikaru Sulu _, attached to_ Stargazer  _task force. Approaching the Dorvan system_.   
  
Captain Ghaz char Makal-Thraka rubber her armrest absent-mindedly. "Engines status, Mr. kaMpande?"   
  
"Holding steady, ma'am," Jama kaMpande, a towering dark-skinned Human, reported from his station. "The old girl's still got the fire in her."   
  
"Good. Just make sure we're still matching pace with  _Stargazer_." The  _Sulu_  was a 23rd century  _Miranda_ -class light frigate updated to modern specs; even so, her engine was a 2340s model and tended to strain at high warp. She was a small, fragile, clunky old ship, previous relegated to patrol and VIP transport duties, but Ghaz loved her all the same.   
  
Captain Picard's voice crackled over the intra-fleet communications system. The aging speakers on  _Hikaru Sulu_  sounded slightly tinny as he spoke. " _All vessels, this is Captain Picard aboard_ Stargazer _. Commodore Leyton believes that he has a sensor trace on the Cardassian Fourth Order, and is diverting the_ Galaxy _strike force and Task Force 34 to the Geminion system to pursue. We are to return to radio silence, and assume position around the Federation colony on Dorvan V. Picard out._ "   
  
"The  _whole_  of Task Force 34?" wondered Ghaz's XO, Lieutenant-Commander Kamarantha sh'Antar, a tall, buxom Andorian with hair in a tight bun. "That leaves us with just three  _Miranda_ s, two  _Excelsior_ s, two  _Constitution_ -class refits, and  _Stargazer_. If the spoonheads ambush us..."   
  
Ghaz winced. "That wouldn't be good. But Cardassian sensors aren't as good as ours, we should at least get advance warning if they show up."   
  
"True," Kam acknowledged. "Well, let's hope for a nice, boring mission and no need to see  _the_  Captain Picard in action."   
  
Ghaz grunted her acknowledgement. She'd heard all the fleet briefings about the Picard Maneuver, and wouldn't admit to anyone that she'd spent over three hundred hours on the holodeck practicing it to hone her own skill at the trick. She'd only just made Captain after ten years of mind-numbing patrol duty, after all; she needed to learn from the best.   
  
"Keep us steady, Helm. I don't want any nasty surprises."   
***  
_Bridge, CDS_ Vetar _. Cardassian Fourth Order, 1st strike force "Defenders of the Fatherland".  
_  
In the depths of space, something moved.   
  
A tan starship in the shape of an ankh, surrounded by four somewhat smaller ships of a rougher, more compact design, and ten slender escorts, slid through space like a hunting mako, running lights set low, barely illuminating the Cardassian script on the hull, which read  _CDS Vetar_. A  _Galor_ -class, the warship was one of the newest, largest, and most advanced battleships ever constructed by the Cardassian Union, a match for almost any ship in local space bar a Federation  _Galaxy_ -class. Armed with a half-dozen disruptor mounts, including a main spinal mount, and two photon torpedo launchers, it represented the pinnacle of Cardassian engineering. Its command bridge was spotless metal, crisply-uniformed Cardassian men rising to stand at attention as the hatch at the back of the bridge opened to reveal their commander.   
  
"Report," ordered Gul Aman Evek, striding onto the bridge a good thirty minutes before his shift was due to begin. A tall, robust Cardassian in early middle age, he was well-rested and calm, showing no sign of having lost two sons in the disastrous battle for Benzar the year before.   
  
"The Federation forces have split, my Gul," replied his first officer,  _Dal_  Tora Madred, a rare female Cardassian officer. "The majority, containing their most modern vessels, have followed the Fifth Order and will not affect our operation."   
  
"Excellent." Evek took his seat, uniform creases well-worn despite the spotless fabric. "Analysis of the other force?"   
  
"Still too far for sensors, my Gul, and they've gone radio silent, but the track on the emissions would put them on a course towards Dorvan V. Composition is  _estimated_  to be one heavy cruiser, three to four medium or light cruisers, and three to five destroyers or escorts, according to Obsidian Order intelligence. Flagship of the task force is  _believed_  to be USS  _Stargazer_ , NCC 2893, commanding officer Jean-Luc Picard. Human, from a province called France on their homeworld. Decorations for valor, tactical genius, good conduct, and several citations for diplomatic excellence."   
  
"A model Federation officer, then," Evek summarized, a touch of regret in his voice. "Maintain present course. We will loop around the sixth planet and use the asteroid belt to cover our approach. Take out the cruisers first, then  _Stargazer_ , then clean up the rest and move to occupy and fortify the planet until the Sixteenth Order can reinforce us. For Cardassia."   
  
"For Cardassia!" the bridge crew echoed.   
***  
_USS_ Stargazer _, NCC 2893. Dorvan V orbit, two hours later_.   
  
"Jean-Luc," said first officer Jack Crusher suddenly. "I've got an anomalous contact coming in from the asteroid belt."   
  
"Mr. Vigo, load photon torpedoes," ordered Picard. "Comms, alert the fleet and then try to raise Commodore Leyton, encrypted hail. Message as follows: Possible Cardassian contacts sighted,  _Stargazer_  strike force stands ready."   
  
The Benzite nodded, then cursed. "Captain! I'm getting long-range communications interference, we're being jammed!"   
  
"Shields up! Red alert!" Picard ordered. "Are short-range communications working?" Sirens began to blare as the  _Stargazer_  sprang to life.   
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
"Alert the fleet, then, and then send out a broad-band SOS, repeating message."   
  
"Yes, sir! Fleet channel open!"   
  
"Picard to all vessels, our long-range communications are being jammed. I want a full sensor sweep on the asteroid field, coordinates across the following range--"   
  
"Sensor contact!" shouted Crusher. "Cardassian profile, coming back as an  _Akleen_ -class cruiser! More contacts,  _Koranak_ -class destroyers! They're warp-jumping in!"   
  
"All ships to battle stations!" Picard ordered. "Charge phaser banks!"   
  
"We're being hailed! Cardassian military frequency!"   
  
"Jean-Luc, I'm reading a battleship, might be a  _Galor_ -class," Crusher warned. Picard nodded authoritatively.   
  
"Understood, Number One. Comms, on screen."   
  
" _Captain Picard, I presume_?" the Cardassian on the viewscreen asked.   
  
"You have the advantage of me, sir."   
  
" _It seems so, yes. I am Gul Aman Evek, of the Cardassian Fourth Order. I offer you this opportunity to surrender to the Cardassian Union_."   
  
And I must decline," Picard replied gruffly.   
  
" _Of course._ " The Cardassian didn't seem terribly put out by the observance of the formalities, but at least he didn't gloat. " _May the best man win._ " The man made a cutting motion across his throat, and the transmission cut out.   
  
"Form up around  _Stargazer_ ," Picard ordered immediately. "I want attack formation Kirk Epsilon, all cruisers initiate attack pattern Sulu Theta on my mark."   
  
_Stargazer_  wheeled in space, the cruisers moving to support it as the destroyers took the flanks. The oncoming Cardassian fleet loomed on the viewscreen, outnumbering the Federation ships three to one.   
  
"In weapons range!" shouted Vigo.  _Stargazer_  shuddered as the Cardassians' weapons lanced out. "They're launching torpedoes!"   
  
"Mark!" Picard snapped. "Vigo, concentrate fire on that battleship!"   
  
"Sir!"   
  
"Shields down to 87%!" Crusher shouted. "Cruisers engaging!"   
  
"Destroyers, keep our flanks covered!" Picard commanded, tracking the enemy warships on the display with keen, experienced eyes. "Begin sensor jamming!"   
  
_Stargazer_  shook with the impact of a torpedo. "Shields at 62% and dropping!"   
  
"Full impulse! Fire at will!"   
***  
_CDS_ Vetar _.  
_  
"Where the  _shtel_  are my sensors?" snapped Gul Evek, gripping his seat's armrests with anxiety.   
  
"They're jamming us with some kind of particle field!" Madred replied, tapping urgently at her console. "I can't get all the way through it!"   
  
"Do what you can.  _Ghemor_ , move to support  _Krader_ , their shields are down!"   
  
The bridge shook, and Evek bit back a curse against Supreme Legate Kajhe's parentage. The Fourth Order was supposed to be guarding the core worlds, damn it, not gallivanting around in this doomed campaign against the Federation! If Macet hadn't lost the Benzar campaign so badly after the surprise attacks in the Dorvan sector and the opening strike on the Federation reserve fleet over Bolarus IX, they would  _still_  be there, too. And if Supreme Legate Kajhe hadn't decided to fully invade the Federation to press his border claims...  
  
No use resting on maybes and what-ifs. Evek had a battle to win.   
  
"Can you locate the source of the jamming?"   
  
"I'm not sure, my Gul! This is a new model, they must have just introduced it."   
  
"Very well. Tactical, first and second wings, converge on  _Stargazer_  and fire at will!"   
***  
_USS_ Hikaru Sulu.   
  
Ghaz char Makal-Thraka swore as  _Stargazer_ 's shields flickered and died. Cardassian weapons fire scored across her hull, and more shots cut into  _Midway_  on her starboard flank. "We're getting cut to pieces," the Tellarite growled. "Kam, do our comms reach the warning buoys we set up?"   
  
"I think so, why?"   
  
The Captain's snout twitched. "The Cardassians must've hacked the warning buoys to get so far in-system without detection. But there's a backdoor, if you have the right ID codes you can trigger sensor ghosts and anyone using it won't be able to tell unless they double-check with their own sensors."   
  
"And the Cardies are jammed," the Andorian realized. "I'm on it!"   
  
"kaMpande, get me the destroyer wing!"   
  
"Sir! You're on!"   
  
" _Cochrane_ ,  _Kaiser Wilhelm III_ , this is Captain char Makal-Thraka aboard  _Hikaru Sulu_. I'm transmitting a plan that should give  _Stargazer_  and the cruisers time to fall back and regroup."  _Stargazer_ 's primary coms array vanished in a blast of sparks as the Cardassians closed in. "We're going to fake a massive incoming fleet and attack the Cardassians from behind, and take out their jamming ship to give the cruisers time to regroup and get their shields back up. Do a warp jump to behind the Cardassian lines on my mark."   
  
" _That's suicide_!" protested one of the other Captains.   
  
"We've got less than a minute before they cut us to pieces!" Ghaz snapped.  _Sulu_ 's torpedo launchers thrummed beneath her feet as a Cardassian projectile crashed into  _Midway_ 's left nacelle, leaving the  _Excelsior_ -class leaking plasma. "We can either make our stand here and die for nothing, or give the cruisers a chance and die for something!"   
  
There was a moment of silence. Then, " _What the hell. You only live once, right?_ "   
  
"Humans," muttered Kam. "I've got the program ready, Captain."   
  
"Hey!" objected Jama. "We're not  _all_  foolhardy adventurers. Just most of us."   
  
"Go to warp on my mark, coordinates sent now! Three, two, one, mark!" Space  _bent_ , and they popped back into existence fifty kilometers behind the Cardassian lines, wheeling in space like lightning.   
  
"Kam, wait on the program until my mark! Destroyer wing, target the following heavy cruiser, I think it's their comms jammer!"   
  
" _Target locked!_ "   
  
The three aging little frigates sped closer, weapons hot. Ghaz leaned forwards in her seat, gripping the armrest. "Wait for it...wait for it... _FIRE!_ "   
  
The already-damaged CDS  _Krader_  lurched into an impromptu turn as phaser fire tore down its wavering shields and into its hull. Torpedoes followed, and an engine port belched fire.   
  
"FIRE AGAIN! LOAD TORPEDOES, FULL SPREAD!"   
  
Return fire from  _Krader_ slammed into  _Sulu_ 's fore shields, tearing them down in seconds as two more cruisers joined in. A Cardassian destroyer erupted in a flash of light as  _Stargazer_  landed a lucky hit; Ghaz shrieked as a wall panel was blown out by an explosion of fire and electricity.   
  
"Damage report!"   
  
"Shields offline, heavy damage to the hull plating, breaches on decks 4 and 7!"   
  
"Give me another volley!"   
***  
_CDS_ Vetar.   
  
"What the  _shtel_  are those maniacs  _doing_?" Evek snarled. "Leave  _Stargazer_ , move us over to defend  _Krader_!"   
  
"Yes, my Gul!"   
  
_Vetar_ 's main spinal mount fired with a palpable  _thrum_. The blast tore into one of the little ships, sending its starboard nacelle pylon wheeling away from the rest of the ship, which lost control, drifting for the planet as it flipped end over end.   
  
"Fire again!"   
***  
_USS_ Hikaru Sulu _.  
_  
" _This is_ Cochrane _, we've lost main power! Using auxiliary thrusters, all surviving crew are heading for the escape pods!_ "   
  
"Deities be with you,  _Cochrane_!" Ghaz replied. "One more volley! Kill that bastard for the  _Cochrane_!"   
  
_Krader_  buckled under the impact of more torpedoes, and a phaser from  _Sulu_  found its mark, boring deep into the Cardassian cruiser's hull and searing into the warp core. The eruption was for a moment as bright as a star being born.   
  
" _Got_  him!"  _Hikaru Sulu_  shook again, and Ghaz was thrown from her chair. "Kam, now!"   
  
"Sending program!"   
  
A torpedo from CDS  _Vetar_  impacted with  _Sulu_ 's forward hull a mere ten meters from the Bridge three milliseconds after the transmission left  _Sulu_ 's communications array. The impact ripped into the ship's internal structure, and the fore wall of the bridge  _split_ , momentarily letting a stream of superheated plasma and pure energy into the atmosphere inside. Seconds later, disruptor fire from five Cardassian destroyers tore into the little ship's weakened dorsal hull, tearing deep into her belly and meeting the warp core.   
  
Ghaz char Makal-Thraka, age 37, and all 57 souls of her crew, died instantly.   
***  
_CDS_ Vetar.   
  
"Gul Evek! The Federation sensor grid just sent out an automated message--a Federation fleet is inbound!  _Galaxy_ -class battleship, four  _Excelsior_ -class and six  _Constellation_ -class cruisers--"   
  
"Task Force 34," snarled Evek. "Bring us about!"   
  
Two more destroyers and the cruiser  _Tret Akleen_  died; one of the former ejected its core in time to avoid a breach as the Federation cruisers' fire tore into its hull, but was splintered by a torpedo, as the other two erupted into fiery death. Evek swore; he'd  _known_  the Gul of  _Tret Akleen_ , he was a good man, a father of four who was expecting twins with his wife--twins who he'd never see born. "Order all ships to shift power to shields! Get me confirmation from our sensors of the Federation reinforcements' attack vector!"  _Stargazer_  was recovering, her shields back up, and the Sixteenth Order wouldn't be here for two hours--they had to win this  _now_  or not at all.   
  
"I'm trying, they're still jamming us! It's weaker now, though--coming from the destroyer!"   
  
"Damn it! Kill that last destroyer!" Evek bellowed. The spinal mount  _thrumm_ ed again, and fire erupted across the Federation ship's hull. The little ship flared briefly, and the jamming field causing the viewscreen to fuzz vanished, along with the destroyer, which appeared on the far side of the Federation battle lines with its engines sparking in death.   
  
"What is the Federation task force's attack vector?" Evek demanded.   
  
"That's odd--I'm not reading  _any_  attack vector," Madred frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh,  _shtel_ , it was a trick! Those were sensor ghosts!"   
  
And the cruisers had stopped firing. Evek's shoulders tingled and went cold as he realized what had just happened. "Bring us about! Bring us back about, now!"   
  
But it was too late. Six of his destroyers vanished in a hail of Federation torpedoes and phasers, and without his numbers advantage the Federation's technological edge was now too much to counter. "Damn it! Fall back! All ships, fall back now!"   
  
The cruiser  _Trekal Darhe'el_  was too slow; the last thing Evek saw before they jumped to warp was its engines blowing out from Federation phaser fire.   
  
" _Shtel_!" Evek swore as the starfield blurred and stretched on the viewscreen. " _Shtel, shtel, shtel_!"   
  
"My Gul?" Madred asked with a hint of caution.   
  
Evek ran a hand through his hair and scowled. "Get Command. Tell them that the operation was a failure. But first--did we get the IFFs of those destroyers?"   
  
"Yes, my Gul. Federation starships  _Cochrane_ ,  _Kaiser Wilhelm_ , and wing leader  _Hikaru Sulu_."   
  
"Mark their names in the log. Including the wing leader especially." Evek smiled a humorless grin. "Whoever he was, he had a pair of hemipenes on him to try that trick."   
  
"Yes, my Gul."   
  
Evek stood. "Helm, lead the retreat to outpost 47. Ocett, compile a casualty list and send it to me immediately. Madred, you have the bridge. I have letters to write."   
***  
_Bridge, USS_ Galaxy _. Leaving the Geminion system.  
_  
Commodore James Leyton was not a happy man. The Fifth Order had withdrawn into Cardassian space the moment Leyton's force had arrived at the system, and now he was beginning to realize just how grave of a mistake he had made.   
  
"Repeat the message again," he ordered.   
  
Lieutenant Elizabeth Shelby, communications officer, cleared her throat. "Er, yes sir. 'From  _Stargazer_  task force to TF 34 engaged by CDF 4th Order Dorvan system 1  _Galor_ -class 4  _Akleen_ -class 10  _Koranak_ -class destroyed 2  _Akleen_ -class 9  _Koranak_ -class disabled 1  _Akleen_ class lost 3  _Miranda_ -class all hands recommend Cpt. char Makal-Thraka FMOH or Karagite Heroism remaining ships heavy damage moderate casualties request information where is repeat where is TF 34 the galaxy wonders'."   
  
Leyton's PADD cracked in his grip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote up a bit about how this timeline will likely end up: 
> 
> \--The Cardassian Union suffers a crushing defeat at the hands of the Federation. The military regime is forcibly removed from power in disgrace and Bajor is liberated as a Federation protectorate.   
> \--The Federation is more militarized, and after Jean-Luc Picard transfers to Enterprise, ends up far more prepared for the Borg invasion; Wolf 359 is still a major defeat, but the cube is heavily damaged before it reaches Sol and the battle more resembles the battle of Sector 001 from First Contact.   
> \--The Federation still doesn't interfere directly in the Klingon civil war until the Romulan aid to Duras is made obvious, due to political concerns with and in the Empire.   
> \--The Cardassian Union is a shaky but relatively functional democracy plagued by revanchist terrorists and full of Federation "military advisers" (think modern Iraq in the mid to late 2000s) by the start of DS9.   
> \--The Dominion War is shorter, as the Federation's been building up their military for two extra years and authorized the Defiant-class earlier. The Dominion suffers crushing early defeats after the initial slog of the Second Battle of New Bajor (the "first" battle of New Bajor is the bombing of the Bajorans' Gamma Quadrant colony planet by the Dominion) and is forced into surrender after Section 31 uses the genocide virus like in canon. The Cardassian Union suffers heavily as the Federation-backed government and the Dominion-backed Dukat regime duke it out.   
> \--The Romulans join the war late after the Founders try to manipulate them into joining against the Federation. They come out of the war in a somewhat stronger position than going in. Nemesucks never happens.


	2. (AU fic) For the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a universe where the Romulans won the Sundering wars on Vulcan, James T. Kirk must decide whether to trust his mortal foe...the man known as Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story uses a lot of Romulan language terms, predominantly derived from Diane Duane's "Rihannsu" series. Here's a quick guide: 
> 
> High Rihan dialogue:  
> Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan: Romulan Star Empire. The Watraii use "Empire of the Declared" instead.  
> Galae s'Shiar Rihan: Romulan Grand Fleet  
> Eyiv s'Rea: Rea's Helm, a historical starship name (similar to the USS Enterprise)  
> ch'R: IRW/Imperial Romulan Warbird, a ship prefix  
> Aen'rhienn: Bloodwing, another historical starship  
> Riov: Commander, Rihan equivalent of Watraii Captain (commander of a starship)  
> Enarrain: senior Lieutenant (equivalent of a Federation Lieutenant Commander)  
> Arrain: Lieutenant  
> Erei'Riov: Subcommander, immediate subordinate of Riov  
> Khre'Enriov: Supreme Admiral  
> Raenasa: High Command  
> Rekkhai: Sir/Ma'am  
> Au'e: At once/emphatic affirmative  
> Ie: "Yes, [superior]"  
> leih: CO  
> Erein: Centurion, a rank below Arrain  
> ch'Rihan: "Place of the Declared", in this case Vulcan.  
> Eyhon eludet'eri: "Lost Road", a historical starship name.  
> Maens: "Gauntlet", a historical starship name.  
> Sienov omienai: Honor blade, a type of katana- or saber-like sword. 
> 
> Watraii dialogue:  
> kh'Watraii: Watraii capital  
> Watraii: "Betrayed", derived from Old High Vulcan

Galae s'Shiar Rihan  _warbird_ Eyiv s'Rea _. Uncharted system, near the Andorian Empire border_.    
  
"It's  _monstrous_ ," whispered  _enarrain_  tr'Haldas. "How could these  _animals_  be so cruel to their own?"  
  
 _Riov_  Arrhae ir'Mirrhasa ei'Satali t'Sathe had no answer as she watched the footage of the pre-warp aliens that warbird  _Eyiv s'Rea_  had discovered on this planet herding starving members of their own kind into...  
  
She could not go further along that thought. Arrhae was no stranger to horror; she spaced Orion pirates whenever she could catch them, and she had seen combat in twelve systems across three sectors, but the sheer mindless brutality that these creatures committed against their own people...this was something that the Rihannsu had never seen, not even when the Sundering Wars had burned ch'Rihan with nuclear weapons and the Unforgiven had fled with their hypocrite mentor to unknown lands.  
  
"Get me  _Raenasa_. The  _khre'Enriov_  must hear of this."  _And if he agrees, we can have twenty warbirds here in a little over two weeks..._  
  
" _Au'e, rekkhai_ ," the communications officer confirmed. The young Commander watched the video begin again...all of those poor creatures, being systematically, robotically murdered by their own for no reason but hate. Yes, some still stood against the murderers, but they were increasingly beleaguered, and without aid it might be too late for anything good left in the species.  
  
 _I only hope that the_ khre'Enriov _approves my request for support. These Humans do not deserve this agony._  
***  
 _Berlin,_ Königreich Preußen,  _German Empire. April 20th, 2061.  
  
Reichskanzler_ Mathilde Kraus, leader of the free world ( _oh God help me_ ), flipped to the next page on her tablet with increasing gloom. "We're in deep shit," she proclaimed. "Even with the Americans finally beating back the ECON enough to send us help, Krasnov the Butcher's forces are still holding most of Poland, and Will--er,  _seiner Kasierliche und Königliche Majestat_ \--says that his forces are still bogged down thirty miles outside of Gdansk." The thirty-year-old Pirate Party protest candidate-turned-Chancellor passed the tablet over to the other three surviving members of the old  _Bundestag_. "What's more, we'll need to hold elections  _this year_. Alternative for Germany may be discredited thanks to Krasnov, but there's still the peace faction to worry about."  
  
"We can't make peace with the Russian Butcher," objected Karl Kohl, a Christian Democrat back-bencher who'd been tending to his dying aunt when the Khanate suicide bombing had killed almost all of the  _Bundestag_. "He openly wants us all dead. What was it he said last week--he wants the West burned down to the bedrock? And  _we're_  part of the West."  
  
"The peace voters think that he's bluffing, though," Mathilde pointed out. "Look, we all know that he's a fucking monster, and I think we all believe these reports of death camps, but it happened for a couple of years when  _we_  were the murderous fascists, there's a good chance it'll happen now that the  _Russians_ are murderous fascists. And we need to do whatever it takes to stop that from happening." She took a swig from the 2-liter energy drink bottle she kept by her side. "Plus, we've taken a credibility hit from holding back the elections under the national emergency justification. And if we lose the elections, if more anti-war candidates win than those who want to see Russia beaten--or worse, if we get a revolt on our hands..."  
  
She didn't need to finish. Ivan Krasnov would march his armies through Berlin, kill every man, woman, and child he could find, and push through Europe's last bulwark. France was a wreck after Jean-Baptiste Moliere's atrocities, and the entire Iberian peninsula had been in civil war for a decade, let alone the vicious fratricidal conflict in Ireland that the Brits were tied down trying to contain. And with America split down the middle by the ECON fascists and the Aspen government trying to destroy the Augment menace while stopping the Chinese behemoth's desperate attempts to pry territory out of the Khanate's splintering grasp in a futile attempt to feed its teeming masses, while Brazil was locked in a duel to the death with fascist Argentina, there was no major power that could take up Germany's place if the Fatherland fell.  
  
"General Hohenzollern--I mean,  _der Kaiser_ \--needs more air support," Sabine Weber (Social Democrat-- _Königreich Bayern_ , survived the bombing due to a severe case of influenza keeping her out of work) noted. "If we can deliver a major military victory--such as by securing Gdansk for our Polish brothers with the air support that His Imperial and Royal Majesty is asking for--we can probably get a majority."  
  
"But where do we  _get_  the air support? Ever since the  _President Barack Obama_  went down neutralizing the Khanate fleet, the Americans haven't got any supercarriers. And we had to torpedo  _De Gaulle_  when Moliere threatened to nuke Hamburg. Our own factories are already stretched to the limit, and the F-44 we licensed from the Americans is too clumsy to take on the MIG-47 one to one even if we COULD produce enough to hit that level of numerical parity. How can we get more aircraft rapidly enough to make a difference in Gdansk?"  
  
There was a knock on Mathilde's office door. "Enter!"  
  
Mathilde's secretary, ironically older than the  _Reichskanzler_  herself, poked her head in. "Madam Chancellor, there's someone here to see you--I swear that I didn't put her into your appointments but the computer says that she's in..."  
  
"Is she Russian? Augment?"  
  
"I...I don't think so, madam Chancellor. She is wearing a hood, though..."  
  
"Security, keep a bead on our guest, just in case." The two hulking men behind Mathilde raised their weapons and pointed them at the door. "You may let her in, Ingrid."  
  
The woman who entered wore a strange, hooded robe, with a lump on the hip by the right side.  _A gun? How did she get past..._  Then the door closed, and the woman threw back her hood.  
  
"Greetings, Imperial Chancellor," said the alien woman, pointed ears and angled eyebrows making her obviously non-human. "My name is Arrhae ir'Mirrhasa ei'Satali t'Sathe, Commander of warbird  _Rea's Helm_  of the Grand Fleet of the Empire of the Declared. I am here to give you a proposition, with the permission of the Supreme Admiral of the Grand Fleet."  
  
Mathilde gaped. Magnus Schmidt (Social Democrat--Hannover) choked on his drink. Karl squealed like a little girl and attempted to haul himself over the back of his chair. Sabine fainted dead away.  
***  
 _Motherland-Purification Camp 20. Twenty miles outside Krasnovgrad, Third Empire of All the Russias (formerly Dnipro, Ukraine). May 7th, 2061._  
  
Vladimir Petrovich Kolontayev, third most-powerful man in the Third Empire of All the Russias, Commissar-General of the Office of Racial and Religious Purity, deputy head of the  _Okhrana_ , and Royal Prince-Protector of West White Ruthenia (formerly Poland), known to the West as the Butcher of Krakow, stepped out of his gleaming black Lada, pulling on his pristine white gloves as his driver held the door, black longcoat flapping slightly in the brisk spring wind. Twenty men of the Motherland-Purity Brigades snapped to attention on either side of the path towards the camp's gate, each man holding both fists diagonally in the air on stiff arms. "Hail Krasnov! Hail Purity!"  
  
"Hail Krasnov," said Kolontayev absent-mindedly, paying the bare minimum amount of attention to the greasy little Commissar who came to meet him.  
  
"Most noble Commissar-General! Hail Krasnov! We are honored to have you visit, sir." He stuck out his hand to shake. Kolontayev inspected it as if it were a peculiar and mildly disgusting specimen that a scientist had shown him. After three awkward moments, the hand was withdrawn. "Ah, most noble Commissar-General, as you can see we are fully operational--"  
  
"Why aren't the ovens running?"  
  
"Ah, sir, as we were informed that you were to arrive, it was decided to put the feminized degenerates to work in order to ensure that--"  
  
"What does Tsar Krasnov pay you to do, Commissar?"  
  
"The...the Most Holy Tsar, sir?" Kolontayev raised an eyebrow. The Commissar began to sweat. "Er, the Most Holy Tsar gives us state compensation for our enthusiasm in performing our duties to purify the Motherland of feminized Western influences, most noble Commissar-General."  
  
"Correct," Kolonyatev noted, ignoring the propaganda and cutting to the chase. "You are paid to kill Poles. And Ukrainians, Germans, Balts, Romanians, Magyars, and Finns, but primarily Poles. You are paid to kill these Poles, then to incinerate their bodies. Now tell me, Commissar, why I see no smoke from the ovens, no Poles lined up for the gas chambers, and in fact no Poles outside of their prison barracks at all except for the examples on the wall, despite knowing that you received a shipment of Poles to kill just yesterday morning?" Kolontayev's voice was colder than the Bay of Kola in mid-December. The Commissar swallowed in terror.  
  
"I...I understand, sir, I will correct this mistake at once!" He turned to the Motherland-Purity Brigade men. "You heard the great Commissar-General! Get back in there and do your duty! Kill the feminized degenerates, double time!"  
  
Kolontayev followed the guards with a long, easy stride. The guards still inside the camp's gates hustled off of the walls and moved for the Poles' prison barracks. The sociopath idly wondered if it would've been easier to exterminate tennis players if Krasnov had wanted that instead. On second thought, no--the Poles were easier. Simpler to find, at least. The benefits of being in charge of the extermination of an entire nationality. Kolontayev's chuckle at his own joke didn't even reach the icy mask that was his face.  
  
Motherland-Purity Brigade men charged into the slave barracks, throwing emaciated Poles out and beating them savagely. Most of the degenerates were too starved and exhausted even to wail. Good. Kolontayev had no time for the tiresome bleating of his victims. He needed to...  
  
Wait. What was that droning sound?  
  
Kolontayev turned just in time to see a strange, blocky aircraft fire violent green pulses of energy, setting fire to the very air not six meters above Kolontayev's head before slamming into the gates, sending concrete, metal, and earth flying thirty meters in the air. Kolontayev hit the ground, cursing. "What the--shoot them! Take them down! Does this place have no anti-aircraft--move, you idiots!"  
  
The aircraft came around again, and Kolontayev snarled in rage as it blew the main watchtower apart in an instant. "What is this?"  _How have my spies failed me--I'll have the idiot who missed this tortured for ten years of constant pain..._  
  
More aircraft materialized out of thin air, dropping heavily-armed paratroopers in some sort of full-body armor. Kolontayev drew his pistol and pulled off two shots, which didn't even slow his target. The man pulled up some kind of rifle...  
  
There was no muzzle flash, but there was a slight crackle of electricity as the Rihan miniature railgun fired. Kolontayev's chest erupted, and the Butcher of Krakow managed one last thought before darkness consumed him forever.  
  
 _Where the hell did these people come from?_  
***  
"In our darkest hour, with the forces of fascism poised to destroy all that is good and just about Humanity forever, the Rihannsu heard our prayers. They rescued us from Khan, from Green, from Krasnov, Castillo, and the ECON butchers. They gave us their technology freely and gave us a place among the start, with the chance to one day be their equals.  
  
Today, my friends, is that day--a day eagerly awaited, a day of glory for our people. Today, we, the Human species, are no longer subjects! We are, now and forever, citizens of the Romulan Star Empire!"  
  
\--Federation President Abner Bowman, speech in ShiKahr, ch'Rihan, 2200 AD.  
***  
 _Outmarches of the_ Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan.  _Near the Watraii Neutral Zone. Terran year 2268; Rihan stardate 5027.3_.  
  
 _Riov_  James Tiberius Kirk,  _leih_ , ch'R  _Aen'rhienn_  (or, in English, Commander Kirk, CO, IRW  _Bloodwing_ ), strode onto the Bridge as he buckled his honor blade to his belt. A member of the  _Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan_ 's first non-Rihan species to be granted full citizenship rights, Kirk was the poster child for the current administration's attempts to mollify disgruntled Tellarite and Andorian activists by showing that ex-subject citizen species were treated with equal rights to the founding species. " _Erei'Riov_  t'Charvanek, what do we have?"  
  
"Hegemony warbird detected,  _rekkhai_ ," said Liviana ir'Kevratas t'Charvanek,  _Aen'rhienn_ 's first officer and Kirk's close friend. A beautiful brunette Rihanha from a remote colony world, she was one of the relatively few common-born Rihan officers in the navy. "They're moving into the neutral zone, headed directly for the border."  
  
" _Fvadt_." Kirk had grown up listening to his father's tales of the last Rihan-Watraii war, and he did  _not_  want to see another one start on his watch. "Maintain cloak.  _Erein_  Sulu, contact  _Raenasa_  for backup. What are these idiots thinking?"  
  
"I don't know, Jim. It doesn't make much sense, especially for the allegedly logical Watraii." Kirk snorted at that.  
  
"Indeed,  _erei'Riov_.  _Arrain_  Uhura, keep us close to them as soon as they cross the border. What's their status? Weapons or shields?"  
  
"We can't tell yet, but they'll be within active sensor range in five minutes," t'Charvanek replied.  
  
"I have High Command," reported Sulu. " _Khre'Enriov_  t'Rehu."  
  
"On screen." The Supreme Admiral was a striking middle-aged  _Rihanha_  of about a hundred and ten years, her classical ShiKahr features framed by lustrous auburn hair.  
  
" _Riov_  Kirk," the  _Khre'Enriov_  said. "You report a Watraii violation of the neutral zone?"  
  
" _Au'e, rekkhai_. A Watraii warbird, looks like a... _Retribution_ -class, detecting an IFF, heading straight for the border. IFF reading as Watraii Hegemony warbird  _Surak_."  
  
"We are dispatching three warbirds to assist. Hold the Watraii vessel if it crosses the border, destroy it if necessary. Warbirds  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_ and  _Maens_  will arrive in thirty minutes, warbird  _Haakona_  in an hour." Two light cruisers and a superheavy battleship. More than enough to deal with a single Watraii battleship, but that depended on Kirk holding out that long in his  _T'liss_ -class medium cruiser. Not good odds.  
  
"Understood,  _Khre'Enriov_."  
  
"Stay strong,  _Riov_.  _Raenasa_  out."  
  
The screen went dark, then switched back to the open stars. Kirk turned to t'Charvanek with a raised eyebrow. "Well, we have our orders. Red alert! All hands to battle stations."  
  
T'Charvanek grimaced. " _Ie_ ,  _rekkhai_."  
  
" _Erein_  Sulu, open a shipwide channel."  
  
"Open,  _rekkhai_.  
  
"All hands, this is the  _Riov_. A Watraii battleship has violated the neutral zone. We are moving to engage. Reinforcements are half an hour away, we will need to hold the border until they arrive. Kirk out."  
***  
 _Watraii Hegemony battleship_ Surak _. Watraii-Rihan neutral zone._  
  
Captain Spock, of kh'Watraii, gripped his chair's armrest, ornate mask hiding his face. Tall and strong, with an implacable attitude of calm and a deep, masculine voice, he was the epitome of a Watraii officer. "Operations, do you detect any Imperial vessels?"  
  
"Nothing, sir," the masked woman replied, "but certainty is impossible given the thieves' cloaking technology."  
  
Spock nodded. "Acknowledged. Maintain course. Bring us to a halt once we have crossed the border."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Sound battle readiness. It is imperative that we succeed in our mission." Without cloaks, the Betrayed were at a significant disadvantage against the expansionist  _Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan_  and its various vassals and subjects. A cloaking attack would destroy most unaware vessels, even ships as powerful as those of the Watraii, before they could inflict significant retaliation. Battle readiness would help, but still...  
  
"We have crossed the border. Dropping out of warp," the helm officer reported.  
  
"Begin active long-range scans," Spock ordered. "Maintain battle readiness."  
  
It took less than ten seconds for a  _T'liss_ -class  _Rihan_ warbird to drop out of cloak two kellicams behind  _Surak_ \--contact alerts blared automatically as the round-hulled vessel materialized out of nothing in the rear arc of Spock's spearhead-shaped battleship.  
  
"Declared warbird reading as IRW  _Bloodwing_ , Captain. Medium cruiser-spec, we outgun them approximately two to one. Their weapons are readied but they are not firing."  
  
"Maintain position and shields, do not power weapons."  
  
"We are being hailed," the communications officer reported.  
  
"On screen."  
  
The unmasked biped on the viewscreen stood from his chair, Declared-style  _sienov omienai_  at his hip. "Watraii vessel, this is ch'R  _Aen'rhienn_. You are in violation of the Treaty of Tellar Prime; power down your vessel and surrender immediately or you  _will_  be fired upon."  
  
Spock forced himself to relax. " _Rihan_ warbird, this is Captain Spock aboard the Watraii battleship  _Surak_. I wish to defect to the  _Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan_."  
***  
Spock materialized to see five Declared disruptor rifles pointed at his face. An understandable precaution.   
  
"Captain Spock," said the Declared commander, stepping forwards with his right hand held out. "I'm Commander Kirk. This is Centurion Montgomery Scott, my chief of security, and Janice Rand, ship's doctor. I'm going to have to request that you submit to a medical examination and accompany my security team to the guest quarters."  
  
"Commendable discipline," Spock noted. "I will comply, Commander Kirk." He stepped down off of the transporter pad and inclined his head at Kirk's outstretched hand.  
  
"You shake it," the man explained. "It's a greeting custom among my species."  
  
"Ah." Spock grasped the hand with his own right and gingerly shook it forwards and backwards. Kirk raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.   
  
"Rand."  
  
A pale-haired Declared--another round-eared biped, one of the vassal species, probably a Human--stepped forwards. " _Ie, rekkhai_. Please hold still, sir." She passed a scanner of some sort up Spock's chest and along the side of his head. "He's clean, sir. A healthy male  _Rihanha_ , young adult--"  
  
"I am  _not_  a Declared," hissed Spock. "I am of the Watraii. I may have defected to save lives and worlds, but I  _will not_  be treated like a thief."  
  
"Lives?" Kirk interjected sharply. "What led to your defection, Captain Spock?"  
  
"My father is General Sarek, of Kanamar," the Watraii began. Kirk frowned slightly, but smoothed his features to a polite mask. Spock approved. "He plans to use a planet-destroying superweapon in a war of conquest against the Empire of the Declared. This weapon uses a powerful antiproton weapon to destroy entire planets. Logically, I could not allow this weapon to be used; it would render rightful Watraii soil uninhabitable after its reclamation from the Declared, and the loss off life would be...regrettable."   
  
"Why defect, though?" Kirk challenged. "You could have stopped this working internally."   
  
"My father publicly accused me of un-Surakian thought," Spock countered. "As a Watraii citizen, I possessed no other options and remained at risk of being permanently blacklisted as an illogical wrongthinker. Logic led me to defection as the only alternative."   
  
Kirk looked into the eye-holes of Spock's mask. The Watraii's implacable gaze stared unblinkingly back.   
  
"Centurion Scott, take Captain Spock to his quarters, then get your prize teams to that ship and take the crew into custody. Be gentle."   
  
"Aye, Commander," the Centurion replied with a peculiar accent. "Right this way, laddie."   
  
Kirk saluted as Spock descended from the transporter pad and headed for the door. "Captain. Welcome to the Romulan Empire."   
  
"Commander. Obtain revenge, and remember." He performed a traditional Watraii split-fingered salute in return. Kirk raised his eyebrow but did not pass comment.   
***  
"Do we trust him?" asked t'Charvanek. Kirk turned his PADD's stylus over in his fingers idly, jaw set. There was silence for a few moments. T'Charvanek spoke up again. "Jim?"   
  
"I don't know," Kirk admitted. "If we do this--with only limited long-range scanner data, and if he's lying, or he's been misled...it would mean war. On the other hand, if we don't, and he's right...he described a superweapon of unimaginable power, a neutronium robot starship capable of destroying planets with an antiproton beam powerful enough to strip the mantle from the core. If the Watraii use such a weapon..." He didn't need to finish. After five seconds of tense silence, t'Charvanek spoke up.   
  
"Warbirds  _Maens_  and  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_  are in the system,  _riov_ , and you are in command of the battle group. We could attempt a stealth reconnaissance mission, and destroy this superweapon before it is completed, if it exists?"   
  
"Potentially," Kirk admitted. "But I don't like going into this without better sensor data." He tapped the stylus on the conference-room table. "There  _is_  an installation in the Imaga system, though?"   
  
" _Ie, rekkhai_ ," Sulu replied. "Along with some sort of large, dense asteroid-like object near the habitable planet."   
  
Kirk nodded. "Would you care to hazard a guess at what that object is,  _erein_  Sulu?"   
  
"The readings  _indicate_  some sort of object with a very dense surface several times larger than any current spacecraft. Other than that I cannot reach any definitive conclusions,  _riov_."   
  
Kirk slapped his hand and the stylus to the conference table with finality. "That's it, then. Get me  _raenasa_. We're heading into Watraii space."   
***  
Spock carefully, reverentially removed his mask. He peeled the thin layers apart, revealing a slim lead sheath, which he further pried apart to reveal a flat plastic circuit and a minute power cell. He switched the circuit on, attached it to a slim black tablet that he pulled from beneath his cloak--a tablet that would appear under most circumstances to be a Watraii PDA--and slid the entire assembly beneath his bed. This done, he reassembled the mask and donned it again, letting out a breath that he hadn't quite realized that he'd been holding.   
  
His first part of the mission completed, the Captain sat with his legs crossed and took a slow, deep breath.   
  
"Hail Surak," he whispered in the dim light, and closed his eyes to begin meditating.   
***  
 _Bridge, ch'R_ Aen'rhienn _. Imaga system_.   
  
"Ease us in, Uhura," Kirk said softly, red-alert lights flashing but the sirens off. Technically he could be howling orders and the Watraii battlecruiser a mere three hundred kilometers off the starboard bow wouldn't be any the wiser, but even in the vastness of space old instincts died hard. "Sulu, enemy forces?"   
  
"Enemy forces reading as a  _Vengeance_ -class battlecruiser, three  _T'pol_ -class heavy cruisers, and two  _T'mir_ -class destroyers. We're outgunned about two to one, not including that... _thing_." The  _thing_  was a conical, scaled shape of pure neutronium, with a gaping maw glowing a soft, deep orange.   
  
"Spock was right," mused Kirk. " _Erein_  Sulu, inform Centurion Scott that I want Captain Spock sent up here, standard guard, at once. Uhura, get us in position for a close-range scan of that superweapon."   
  
" _Ie, rekkhai_."   
  
"Warbird  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_ , take our left flank at forty kilometers. Warbird  _Maens_ , take our right flank at sixty kilometers." Kirk leaned forwards in his seat, honor blade sheath brushing the deck. "T'Charvanek, readings?"   
  
"Elements," whispered the Rihanha, blanching. " _Riov_ , that thing's armor is effectively impenetrable by our weapons. I'm only getting relatively low power readings, but based on the composition of the particulates around the opening and the scans of the weapons systems...that weapon could destroy the entire  _Galae s'Shiar Rihan_  without taking a scratch. The armaments are some sort of energy weapons, several orders of magnitude more powerful than our disruptors if my readings are in any way accurate."   
  
" _Fvadt_ ," Kirk swore. The doors hissed open at the back of the Bridge, and Kirk turned, nodding to Spock as the Watraii was escorted in. "Captain. It seems your information was correct. Do you have any idea of how to disable that weapon?"   
  
Spock released a controlled breath, almost a hiss. "I knew that my father was capable of un-Surakian wrongthoughts, but  _this_? Commander, I have previously encountered a weapon like this. It was a self-piloting machine from outside the galaxy, which destroyed planets in order to feed on them in some way. If my father believes that he has developed a form of control over this weapon..."   
  
"We need to stop it, yes. How do we destroy it?"   
  
"During my previous encounter with this form of machine, I performed a ramming maneuver, striking the opening with a crippled starship, on which I had set the warp core to detonate."   
  
Kirk grimaced. "That's going to be hard to pull off now. What about antimatter warheads?"   
  
Spock shook his head. "They were of limited effect. The weapon's interior is also extremely durable; a simultaneous strike by several hundred warheads would be necessary to damage the interior."   
  
" _Fvadt_. T'Charvanek, options?"   
  
"We still have a crate of kemocite that we confiscated from that Yridian smuggler last month, Jim. Hypothetically we could use a shuttlecraft, load it with the kemocite and antimatter warheads?"   
  
"And ram it down that thing's throat? Plausible." Kirk turned back to Spock. "Would that be enough force to disable the weapon?"   
  
"Possibly," Spock allowed.   
  
"Do it," ordered Kirk. T'Charvanek saluted and strode for the turbolift.   
  
Commander Kirk turned back to the viewscreen...and the slumbering abomination hanging silent in space over a Watraii world.   
***  
"Ready?" Kirk asked, thirty minutes of tense floating in space later.   
  
"The payload is loaded and the shuttle is responding to remote control," t'Charvanek confirmed. "On your order,  _riov_." Fva  
  
"Here we go. Drop cloak and deploy the shuttle!"   
  
Red alert sirens blared. The Watraii warships on the viewscreen flared to life and began to turn. "T'Charvanek, keep the shuttle on target!" Kirk ordered. "I'll try to distract the Watraii."   
  
"We are being hailed," Sulu reported. "Watraii comm signature."   
  
"On screen."   
  
" _Declared thieves. I am General Sarek, of Kanamar,_ " a Watraii in an ornate mask announced. " _You are in violation of the sovereign soil of the Watraii Hegemony, and I see that you have a wrongthinking defector among you. In the name of Surak and logical correct thoughts I order you to surrender immediately and unconditionally_."  
  
"General Sarek, I am  _riov_  James T. Kirk, aboard warbird  _Aen'rhienn_. I'm afraid that I can't surrender."   
  
T'Charvanek held up two fingers.   
  
" _If you will not surrender, then you will be destroyed,_ " spat the Watraii. " _Cut communications and open fire. Activate the weapon._ "   
  
" _Fvadt_ ," hissed Kirk. "Warbirds  _Maens_ and  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_ , decloak and attack!"   
  
"You brought multiple warships?" asked Spock in shock.   
  
"Of course, under cloak, in case we needed reinforcements--why?"   
  
Spock bit back an expletive. "I stole a specially modified identify friend-foe transponder from my father's laboratories before my defection. His forces were using it for protection against their weapon. Your other warbirds are in grave danger."   
  
Kirk blanched. "Oh, no.  _Maens_ ,  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_ , cloak and get out of here, now, now, n..."   
  
The unholy form of the planet-killer began to move, its gaping maw glowing orange.  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_  tried to turn, cloak buzzing up...  
  
Uhura screamed as a beam of heat and light brighter than a supernova blazed forth from the planet-killer's maw.  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_  vaporized instantly.  _Aen'rhienn_ 's bridge shook, the screen momentarily fizzing as the sheer power of the weapon sent an interference pulse through its systems.   
  
" _Fvadt!_ " shouted Kirk. "All power to engines and weapons, we'll hold the Watraii off as long as we can.  _Maens_ , get out of here, get reinforcements!" He turned to t'Charvanek. "Status of the shuttle?"   
  
"I'm trying to ram the maw, but I need to time it properly--if that weapon hits it, it'll have no effect."   
  
"Evasive maneuvers,  _arrain_  Uhura," ordered Kirk. "Get us into..."   
  
The bridge jolted, Watraii weapons fire blazing through the shields. A light sparked and exploded. "Shields down to 30% and dropping!" screamed Sulu. "We're too far outgunned!"   
  
"Take us around the weapon!" snapped Spock. Kirk spun in his chair. "It will not target this vessel as long as the IFF is functional!"   
  
"Uhura, take us behind that doomsday machine!"   
  
" _Au'e, rekkhai_!"   
  
The ship shook again as the Watraii ships slipped closer, sliding mere hundreds of meters over the doomsday weapon's hull as the Rihan warbird slipped under the shadow of the abomination. The doomsday machine began to turn, shifting its maw towards the planet....  
  
Kirk wasn't the only one who gasped in shock as the doomsday weapon fired. Imaga IX glowed beneath its cracking surface for a fraction of a second, and...  
  
Chunks of debris blasted out from the remains of the planet at incredible speeds. Kirk shook himself, trying to focus. "Elements...how powerful..." Damn it. "The Watraii are still out there--Sulu, sensor report!"   
  
"What? Oh! Oh,  _fvadt_ , they're right behind us!"   
  
"Uhura, take us under this thing's belly!"   
  
" _Riov_ , the shuttle's in position for the attack run!" t'Charvanek cried.   
  
"Change of plans--Uhura, get us out of here, maximum impulse! T'Charvanek, ram the shuttle into that thing's gullet!"   
  
" _Au'e, rekkhai!_ "   
  
Weapons fire scored the rear shields, tearing through to scar  _Aen'rhienn_ 's hull. More lights blew, and Spock grabbed a wall to steady himself.   
  
"Impact!" shouted t'Charvanek.   
  
"Rear view!" snapped Kirk. The viewscreen shifted...  
  
The doomsday machine erupted in a gout of actinic flame, the invincible neutronium shell splintering from the inside, sending chunks spinning away to impact with the expanding planetary debris. The Watraii battlecruiser took a chunk of neutronium the size of an escort through the midsection, as the escorts and two cruisers were instantly vaporized. The remaining heavy cruiser flipped end over end as one of its nacelles was pulverized by the spinning tail of the doomsday machine on its way past.   
  
Red alert sirens screamed as  _Aen'rhienn_  shuddered, the shockwave flipping the unshielded warbird and melting the outer layers of hull armor. The inertial dampeners groaned as the warbird's superstructure buckled under the strain, and Kirk prayed that the dampeners would hold up--otherwise, they were  _paste_.   
  
Finally, the shockwave passed. Kirk forced himself back up in his chair. "Report!"   
  
"I'm getting reports of injuries from all decks," Sulu managed.   
  
"Hull plating is severely damaged, warp drive and shields are offline, and our phaser banks are destroyed," t'Charvanek reported. "But life support is functioning, as is impulse."   
  
"The cloak?"   
  
"Offline,  _riov_ , and I don't know if I can get it running again."   
  
" _Erein_  Sulu, get back in contact with warbird  _Maens_. We need them to extend their warp field around us and get us out of here, double time."   
  
" _Ie, rekkhai_."   
  
Kirk turned to Spock, frowning. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about that IFF earlier?"   
  
"You would have suspected me of duplicity," Spock replied. "It was imperative that the mission be accomplished without delay; suspicion and an investigation would have caused additional delay and reduced the likelihood of an effective mission."   
  
"And now fifty good men on  _Eyhon Eludet'eri_  are dead as a result of  _your_  haste and lack of trust," snapped Kirk.   
  
Spock opened his mouth, stopped, and closed it. "That is correct." He reached up and carefully removed his mask, the final, shameful surrender for a Watraii. "It appears that my fear and mistrust has resulted in those deaths. Seek vengeance as you wish, Commander; I will not resist."   
  
" _Riov..._ " t'Charvanek began, but Kirk cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.   
  
"I admit that your suspicions had some basis in fact," Kirk said through gritted teeth. "I won't kill you. But justice is necessary. Take him to the Brig and lock him up until I decide what to do with him."   
  
Spock raised an eyebrow as he allowed the Security men to cuff him behind his back. "Intriguing. A Betrayed would have run me through on the spot."   
  
"I'm not Watraii," Kirk replied as Spock was led out. "I'm  _Rihan_."   
  
Spock's only response was a thoughtful hum. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a TOS AU where the Romulans won the Sundering wars on Vulcan. Background:
> 
> \--The point of divergence is the proto-Romulans winning the Sundering wars.  
> \--The Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan is an imperialistic and militaristic Romanesque republic with several vassal species. Romulan law ensures that vassal species will over the course of about 2 centuries be fully integrated into the Empire; this includes conquered species. Unusual service or loyalty to the Empire speeds up the process. The Romulan Empire is currently #2 in the local power rankings, having absorbed the Andorian Empire and Tellarite Republics about a century ago in the face of Watraii aggression. Andorians and Tellarites aren't hugely please with this but the Humans proved that the Rihannsu are serious when they say that service to the empire equals full voting rights, so they're playing along. Several minor species are part of the Empire as well.  
> \--The Watraii are the totalitarian descendants of Surak's followers, under the violent and expansionist Watraii Hegemony. Worshiping Surak in a perverse personality cult, they believe that it is logical that they, an allegedly superior race, rule the galaxy and reclaim the territory that the Rihannsu stole from them. They are militaristic and ruthless, and suffered a humiliating and severe defeat in a major war against the Rihannsu several decades ago. Watraii do not have cloaks; Rihannsu do. This is part of why the Rihannsu won despite the Watraii having more ships; without cloaks, the Watraii would have had a slight edge.  
> \--The tlhIngan wo' (High Rihan: Lloann'mhrahel (lit. "them, from there"); Watraii: Klevomshu; English: Klingon Empire) is number one with a bullet. A powerful and militaristic empire with vast fleet assets, a technological edge, and cloaking tech based on last-gen Rihan designs that they got in exchange for five battleships and some military tech during the last Rihan-Watraii war, they are hobbled by a byzantine political system of feuding Great Houses and a fleet that mostly consists of Great House assets. The previous Klingon Emperor, the conservative Warvan III, was recently killed in an honor duel by his reformist son, Grabthar I "Hammer-bearer", a modestly competent general and skilled politician and warrior, who is currently involved in kicking massive amounts of Orion ass because they had the temerity to enslave some Klingon citizens. The new Emperor is (along with successfully screwing his ambitious brothers with cunning political maneuvers) trying to integrate the always-restive vassal species in the Romulan model, and is talking to the Gorn about joining up; the Gorn, being offered a sweet equal-rights-instantly deal and nervous of Watraii chest-beating, are considering joining up. Ironically, Grabthar's reforms are quickly making the Klingon Empire more democratic and egalitarian than even the Romulans, and soon it will likely resemble the canon universe Federation with more Klingon culture.   
> \--Humans are enthusiastic Romulan citizens, and have sought to mimic Rihan culture, first out of gratitude, then to show that they were ready to be given full citizenship, then out of sheer habit. Human science and engineering brilliance has made the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan stronger when used to complement Rihan superiority in tactical and strategic thinking. They also breed faster than Rihannsu, which makes them useful support for more physically powerful Rihannsu in certain ground-combat situations, and they can help populate and maintain planets more easily. All in all, both sides are happy with the deal.
> 
> \--Kirk is a loyal Romulan citizen but otherwise still himself. His speeches tend to emphasize Humanity's loyalty, courage, and pride in their adopted Rihan-influenced culture.  
> \--t'Charvanek (the Romulan commander from TOS: The Enterprise Incident) fills Spock's role as his close friend and XO. She's a Human-Romulan hybrid, a bastard (i.e. instantly lower class) of patrician birth and not terribly happy about it.  
> \--McCoy is chief engineer, and regularly complains "Damn it, Commander, I do engines and electronics, not ancient history!" and such.  
> \--Scotty is security chief and a total badass. He once rammed a Klingon's teeth straight down his throat in a barfight for insulting his security team's professionalism, and has a propensity for daring commando rescues.  
> \--Janice Rand is CMO  
> \--Sulu is communications officer  
> \--Uhura is pilot


	3. (Episode redo) Archer is not a monster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan Archer COULD have made a joke about his best friend being date-raped, but he's not a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Star Trek: Enterprise episode "Unexpected", the 5th episode of the show, chief engineer Charles "Trip" Tucker goes over to an alien ship, interacts with a female alien engineer, and is tricked into performing her species' form of sex with her as she tells him it's just "a game". He gets pregnant from this and it's treated as a big joke. 
> 
> However, I'm of the opinion, dear reader, that date rape is a serious thing that should not be taken lightly. So here's Captain Archer not being a sick fuck, T'Pol not being a soulless, contemptible waste of oxygen, and Trip reacting like a normal person to the realization that he was violated physically and emotionally by a callous selfish asshole. 
> 
> Some dialogue (in the fist scene) taken from the ENT episode "Unexpected". 
> 
> Also, the guys who wrote the original episode can go rot in hell (screw you, Berman and Braga).

Phlox clicked his laser pointer on, indicating a cluster of cells in Tucker's upper abdomen. "Here, do you see that cell cluster? That is the embryo. I don't know  _how_  you were bio-compatible with a Xyrillian, or how her system used you as a host, or how you are adapting, but I am severely concerned about your health."   
  
"What do you mean?" Tucker asked, looking disturbingly pale.   
  
"Male Xyrillians incubate the embryo, much like a Terran seahorse," Phlox explained. "I would hazard a guess that there was a meiotic error and that you were accidentally implanted with a partial clone of the woman you mated with."   
  
"I didn't have sex with  _anyone_ ," Tucker insisted. "Hell, I wasn't even over there long enough to sleep overnight, so I didn't even take a shower until I got back. How the hell did I get knocked up?"   
  
"I wouldn't think it would be  _that_ difficult for you to recollect a sexual encounter," Phlox noted. "You are certain?"   
  
"The only female I had any contact with was Ah'len, their engineer. Other than repairing the reactor, all she and I did together was go into that holographic chamber they've got. She showed me some home movies, simulations of their planet, but I didn't lay a hand on her," Tucker insisted. "Well, except for that game..."   
  
"Game?" asked Archer sharply.   
  
"Yeah, she showed me this game they play. At least, that's what she called it. It had us sticking out hands in pebbles and reading each others' thoughts."   
  
"She called it a  _game_?" asked Phlox. "Why would...Commander, that 'box of pebbles' is a mating facilitator for the Xyrillian reproductive process."   
  
"She...she  _what_?" Tucker's face went a sickly shade of green, and he sat up sharply. "Get this thing outta me, doc!"   
  
"I will work on a surgical procedure," Phlox assured him, "but right now you need to calm down, Commander Tucker; your body is undergoing spontaneous and massive restructuring to accommodate an alien embryo, and stress will only exacerbate the health risks."   
  
"I don't give a shit, I've been  _raped_  and I want this thing out of..." Tucker turned sideways and threw up, rancid bile spewing onto the floor. "Guh...I want it out, fucking  _now_!"   
  
"Doctor Phlox, I want that embryo out of my chief engineer, and I don't care how long a recovery time it takes as long as you keep him alive," Archer snapped. "Trip, I know that you've just been violated, I know that this is a really bad time for you, but I  _need_  you to breathe. Nice and slow."   
  
"She called it a  _game_  like I was some fucking  _kid_  who didn't know any better!" Tucker hissed. "I want it  _out of me_ ,  _ **now**_!"   
  
"Phlox, how long would it take you to figure out how to remove the embryo without killing or seriously injuring Trip?"   
  
The Denobulan frowned. "Eighteen hours at most. I need to avoid harming the diaphragm, and there's a nerve cluster nearby, but with modern medical science I should be able to design a suitable procedure."   
  
"Get to work, Trip's your highest priority."   
  
"Of course, Captain."   
  
"Captain, I may be able to assist," T'Pol spoke up from Archer's side. "I have taught Vulcan meditation techniques in the past, and I believe that I am capable of assisting Commander Tucker in maintaining a manageable level of stress."   
  
"Go ahead," Archer said with a nod. "Trip?"   
  
"Sure," the engineer replied shortly, looking at his legs. "Whatever. Just...I want this thing  _out_. And then I want to take about a million showers."   
  
"Maybe keep it down to a dozen, our recyclers aren't  _that_  good. But I promise you, Trip, we'll get this thing out of you and find that alien to make her answer for this crime."   
***  
Jonathan Archer strode onto  _Enterprise_ 's bridge, sleeves rolled up and hands clenching and unclenching furiously. "Reed! Weapons status!"   
  
"All systems are fully functional, sir, we've finished repairs and I did a little tune-up on the fore phase cannons. I still think that we can fit a mass driver or something on the ventral hull..."   
  
"How long would it take to install one of those?"   
  
Reed raised an eyebrow. "About...two days, if we had the weapon already ready. I'd just need to integrate it with existing systems and get a tech to reprogram the computers.  But it'd take about a month to actually _make_ the mass driver, so...it's really more of a suggestion.  Sir." A private fantasy, really, but Reed knew that being ammosexual was not exactly the most accepted thing on the conflict-phobic United Earth.    
  
"Never mind, then. Do we still have a sensor trace on that Xyrillian ship?"   
  
"I think so, sir. If I may ask, why, sir?"   
  
Archer's voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. "Their chief engineer raped and impregnated Trip, and he's going to die from it if Phlox can't remove the embryo. Find me that ship and  _kick their asses_  until they turn over that rapist  _bitch_."   
  
"Sir," Reed replied with a nod.   
  
" _Mayweather! Get us moving_!"   
  
"Yes, sir!" The pilot began to sweat as Archer sat in the seat behind Maywether's, the Captain's hands gripping hard enough to make the armrests creak.   
***  
"Got something," snapped Reed, seventy-two tense hours later. "Travis?"   
  
"Looks like their signature," Mayweather confirmed.   
  
"Coordinates oh seven eight mark six, three million kilometres. Change our heading to intercept," ordered T'Pol, who'd managed to convince Archer to get some sleep just four hours before. "Bridge to Archer." She repeated the question twice more before Archer answered.   
  
"Go ahead."   
  
"We have found the Xyrillian ship, sir."   
  
"On my way."  
  
When he returned to the bridge, Archer was wearing his uniform pants and a tank top, his uniform coat half on his shoulders. "What have you got?"  
  
"We're approaching the coordinates. I've analysed the stealth telemetry, and there is a plasma trail along with the signature of another vessel. I believe that the Xyrillians' engines have failed again and they are attempting to repeat their previous method of using another vessel's warp bubble to maintain superluminal speeds."   
  
"Drop down to impulse. Hoshi, try to get an image."   
  
The visible ship was a sleek, long-necked form with a broad-winged rear section. Archer chuckled grimly. "Klingon battle cruiser. Now  _there's_  a good idea."   
  
"The Klingons are coming about," Reed warned.   
  
"Getting a hail now!" Hoshi announced.   
  
Archer straightened his coat. "It'd be impolite not to answer, wouldn't it? Hoshi, do you have the translator algorithm working for  _tlhIngan Hol_?"   
  
"Mostly, sir."   
  
"Good." Archer nodded. "Put 'em on."   
  
"Who are you, who dares pursue Captain Vorok of the Klingon Empire?" snarled the Klingon on the viewscreen, a middle-aged man in a foul temper. "Are you responsible for the sabotage aboard my ship?"   
  
"I'm Captain Jonathan Archer, United Earth starship  _Enterprise_. We didn't cause the damage to your ship, but I'll tell you who did on one condition," Archer replied. "The people who are doing this--one of them sexually violated one of my crew, and I want to punish that one. The rest of them are all yours."   
  
"Captain," warned T'Pol. "The other Xyrillians have not intended to cause harm."   
  
"I..." Archer sighed. "Fine. You're right."   
  
"You let your  _subordinates_  give you orders?" Vorok sneered.   
  
"No, I have a first officer who often disagrees with me. She helps me question myself so that I can make the best choice more often," Archer replied. Vorok nodded in understanding.   
  
"Very Klingon of you, Captain. Keeping your skills sharp, ha!"   
  
"...I guess so. Anyway, the aliens are in a stealthed ship directly behind you at the coordinates I'm sending over now. I want the rapist in my brig, the rest I deal with."   
  
"You ask much, Captain, even for a friend of the High Council," snarled Vorok. "They have caused damage to my ship and injury to my men."   
  
"They did not intend to cause damage, merely to use your warp field to avoid being marooned in interstellar space while they repaired their vessel," Archer promised. "They're a bit selfish, sure, but not worth killing over this."   
  
Vorok sneered as he received the coordinates. "Low-power shots across this area, then strike to disable. Your terms are...acceptable, Archer. You may deal with these people as you will. Their ship, however, is mine."   
  
"Agreed," Archer replied. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but Archer was focused entirely on Tucker's situation. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure that my man's surgery went through with no complications."   
  
"Of course." Disruptors spat out from the Klingon ship's rear, and the Xyrillian cloak dropped; a series of antimatter warheads brought its impulse drive offline in seconds. "Your information was accurate, Captain; you are hereby invited to send men over to our prize to find the criminal that you are searching for, at your leisure."   
***  
Tucker looked at the lineup for about five seconds before turning his head aside. "Number four," he spat, Phlox standing by the side of his gurney to make sure that he didn't move too much. "Can I get out of here? I never want to see her again."   
  
"Of course, Trip." Archer nodded to Phlox and his two aides, who pushed Tucker out of the makeshift observation room. The Captain tapped his combadge. "Reed, number four. Take her to the Brig and lock her there for a few decades." He turned to the Xyrillian Captain, who was gritting his teeth. "Do you need something?"   
  
"Only a chance to kick her ass and take her tags," the man growled. "I apologize for my officer's unacceptable conduct and crime against your officer's rights. I'd have  _appreciated_ it if you hadn't handed my starship over to those Klingons, but I assure you that when we get back to our homeworld I will ensure that Ah'len is officially remanded to your custody."   
  
"My other option was to let the Klingons deal with you for flying in their warp bubble knowing that it would damage their systems," Archer noted. The Xyrillian winced. "You're lucky that Captain Vorok was in a good mood, because I wasn't about to fight a Klingon battlecruiser over a rapist engineer. I'm going to set you and your people back on your homeworld in one piece and without asking for payment or reimbursement for the expense, but I  _am_  publicizing what happened on your planet and I'm not going back to fight the Klingons over your ship."   
  
"I...understand," the Xyrillian admitted, albeit reluctantly. "And again, if you wish for me to make Ah'len apologize to your officer..."   
  
"That won't be necessary," the Human snapped. "And if I find out she's contacted Tucker for any reason, I'm going to discipline the man responsible no matter who he is. Am I understood?"   
  
"Quite," the Xyrillian replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the help of therapy and an understanding, experienced friend in T'Pol, Trip recovered, eventually getting to be Captain of another starship and becoming involved with T'Pol. The rapist was locked in prison on Earth for ten years and then repatriated to the Xyrillian homeworld, where she was stripped of rank and dishonorably discharged. Trip thankfully never saw her again.


	4. (Episode redo) Mad Kathy Janeway is a badass (and doesn't betray her country)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn "Mad Kathy" Janeway, inexperienced captain but brilliant scientist, is stuck on the wrong side of Borg space without reinforcement. But when the bizarre Species 8472 comes knocking and kicks some Borg behind, Kathryn comes up with a clever and possibly insane idea to save her ship and crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not a huge fan of the Voyager episode "Scorpion", wherein Janeway betrays all sapient life to ally with the self-stated enemy of all sapient life because some three-legged guys are kicking Borg ass and Janeway prefers the Borg because the Borg look like people. I'm also not a fan of VOY in general, and that's reflected here. 
> 
> Notable divergences from canon:   
> \--Chakotay has more to say than "My offensive stereotype of Native American culture tribe has a story about this situation".   
> \--The ex-Borg from the episode "Unity" stuck around with the ship and have become a bizarre body-swapping hivemind while slowly losing any concept of gender and any concept of sexuality other than "yes", "no" or "sometimes". I honestly just threw that in because they should've done something with the Borg Cooperative and screw gender, anyway.   
> \--Harry Kim is a confident, intelligent, badass polyamorous pansexual because for god's sake, he deserved better than the cowering humiliation pile he was written as.

Captain Kathryn Janeway blinked for about the third time in an hour. The map was still resolutely  _there_ \--an implacable mass of Borg-infested hell between  _Voyager_  and the route further home, adding  _years_  to the journey even if  _Voyager_ were to skirt the region. And even if they went through while trying to avoid the heaviest Borg areas... The cold arithmetic was unavoidable even there--the Borg had a vast numerical and technological advantage, and  _Voyager_  was one ship without support.  
  
"Damn it!" Janeway threw her long-empty coffee mug aside and stood. Before she could order another mug from her replicator, the door chimed. "Come in!"  
  
"Captain, Commander Chaktoay sent me up," said a slender Human with spiderlike implants across the back of their bald head. Ensign Riley was going without their wig and ponytail today, Janeway noticed. The former Starfleet officer and equally former Borg drone had been picked up from a long-crashed Borg scout ship several months before by the  _Voyager_  crew, and they and their fellow ex-Borg had integrated fairly well into the crew. "He says that Astrometrics picked up unusual activity within the Borg-controlled space near several strange dimensional rifts."  
  
"Show me, Riley."  
  
"Er, it's V'lek, Captain, I'm borrowing Riley's realspace body, I broke mine's leg this morning while moving spare parts around."  
  
"Alright, then, V'lek, show me what you found." The creepy part about the ex-Borg was how they could use their remaining, heavily modified implants to form a hivemind-like communications network, even allowing two personalities to inhabit the same body temporarily. "And where's Riley?"  
  
"Sleeping, sir. They disconnected from their cortical node and put their brain on autopilot, I'm just using the basic motor functions in the cybernetics."  
  
"Right. So this is the anomaly?" The holographic render that Astrometrics had slapped on the PADD hurt Janeway's strained eyes to look at. "Is that a wormhole?"  
  
"Something like it, ma'am." The former Reman used Riley's finger to point to some numbers at the side of the screen. "We detected unusual gravimetric variance, too. Something's bending spacetime there, something  _big_. Or it's some kind of FTL that we don't know about yet--it's not warp drive, or a transwarp conduit, but there's definitely extremely rapid mass movement in the vicinity of the anomaly. The odd thing is, there's particle readings coming back like we've never seen before."  
  
Janeway's eyebrows nearly met her hairline. "But...this can't be right! That's almost..a  _liquid_??? In space?"  
  
"That's why the Commander sent me up here, ma'am."  
  
"Get down there and tell him to meet me in Astrometrics, I'm on my way down."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
***  
"Borg debris in sight," said Lieutenant JG Harry Kim, tapping his console. "Magnifying."  
  
Janeway leaned forwards in her Captain's chair eagerly. "That's a  _cube_!"  
  
"What could deal that much damage?" Choakotay wondered.  
  
"Scans show heavy damage to the armor and all interior systems," Harry reported. "Something melted through that cube like suet."  
  
Janeway looked at Tuvok, who raised an eyebrow a millimeter and typed something on his console. "Captain, based on the damage, I believe the weapon responsible to be at least three times as powerful as standard Borg armaments. It is more likely to be close to an order of magnitude more powerful than a Borg energy weapon, however."  
  
Tom Paris whistled from the helm seat. "That's a  _lot_  of firepower."  
  
"I'm getting lifeform readings!" Harry exclaimed. "A couple of Borg, and two unidentified lifesigns near the base of the cube, one about human-sized and one larger than a shuttle!"  
  
"Bring us in closer," Janeway ordered. Paris complied. "What the..."  
  
Some kind of squidlike abomination was glued to the bottom of the Borg cube like a remora. It was like someone had fused a starship with some abyssal monstrosity, melding spaceframe and unholy flesh into one seamless creature.  _Is_ that _what took down the cube_? Janeway thought.  
  
"Smaller lifesign is moving!" Harry growled, voice taut. "Captain..."  
  
"Open hailing frequencies, just in case whatever's over there can use subspace radio," Janeway ordered. "But keep it quiet, I don't want a visit from the Borg."  
  
"Hailing frequencies open!"  
  
"Unidentified vessel, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the--"  
  
 **YOU WILL PERISH, HATCHLING-KILLER!**  Something  _screamed_  in Janeway's head, and she yelled, lurching forwards and grabbing her skull. Chakotay shouted in alarm behind her...  
  
 **DEATH TO THE INVADERS! WEAK COWARDS, YOU WILL ALL PERISH!**  
  
Janeway could barely hear her crew past the pain now.  _Wait! I'm not the enemy, the Borg are our enemy too!_  
  
A pause, and she could feel Chakotay's hands on her as her body relaxed slightly. Then...  
  
 **LEAVE. WE WILL ONLY WARN YOU ONCE. THE WEAK SHALL PERISH!  
**  
Janeway slumped back, Chakotay catching her as she fell.   
  
"Captain! What happened? Are you alright?"   
  
"M'okay...alien...powerful...telepathic..."   
  
"Commander, the lifeform on the cube just detached, it's...holy! It has warp drive!"   
  
"Alien," Janeway managed. "It's an alien. It told me to leave. They've been attacked by the Borg, I think. It was...incredibly powerful, so much rage. I think that...life-form...was some kind of living starship. And I think that's what took down the Borg cube."   
***  
 _What the hell do I do now_?   
  
Kathryn Janeway drained her coffee mug and tapped her replicator for a new one without looking.  _On one hand we have aggressive xenophobic aliens we know next to nothing about. On the other..._    
  
The Borg.   
  
God damn it. What was she supposed to do? Flying through that mess would be hell, even suicide. But to go around...they were already risking being dead by the time they got home, even with the progress they'd made, but that detour would necessitate Voyager becoming a generational ship. They could always turn back, but... _no. I'm not giving up._  
  
Janeway took a sip from her new mug. She weighed the options of coming back with backup--surely one of the species they had only mildly pissed off would give them some help? Or...  
  
 _What if...  
_  
It was a crazy idea. Absolutely insane. But Kathryn Janeway hadn't earned the moniker "Mad Kathy" and a medal of valor for being  _sane_.   
  
Decision made, she hit her communicator. "Chakotay, this is the Captain. Get Kes to the bridge, now."   
***  
"Captain, are you sure about this?"   
  
Janeway drained another mug of coffee. Tom Paris, the most intelligent man on the ship, turned away very carefully. He knew where this was going.   
  
"If you were any less confident you'd be an actor on his first starring-role performance," Mad Kathy snapped. "I'm not condemning my crew to death hundreds or thousands of light-years from home without trying  _every_  option. Tuvok! If I'm not back in two minutes hack into Kes's mind-link thing and check up on me. Kes! Bring it on."   
  
Kes blushed as she obeyed, not fully knowing why. Chakotay, firmly gelded, slumped backwards as Janeway, shaking from caffeine overdose, closed her eyes and let her mind piggyback on Kes's telepathy.   
  
 _C'mon, let's get this show on the road_. Mad Kathy was riding high on what modern science considered a LD 50 dose of caffeine, and she could barely keep her thoughts from running over themselves.  _Boost me like we discussed, Kes_.   
  
 _Yes, Captain._ There was a sensation of rushing water, and Janeway felt herself  _rise_  in some bizarre way, and then...  
  
Something brushed the edge of her mind, and recoiled.  _Did you feel that?_    
  
 _Yes!_  Kes replied.  _It feels...strange...  
_  
 **THE WEAK SHALL PERISH!  
**  
Janeway was nearly blasted clean out of the link. Kes screamed in pain in Janeway's mind, and a  _tide_  of mental power hit both women again.   
  
 **YOU WERE WARNED, INVADERS! YOU DARED TO ATTACK US, BUT YOU ARE WEAK! YOU WILL PERISH!  
**  
 _Wait! We're not your enemies! We just met you, we're against the Borg, too!_    
  
There was a pause. Then...  
  
 **YOU ARE LIKE THE INVADERS. SMALL. WEAK.** But there was doubt in the words.  **BUT...YOU DO NOT THINK LIKE THEM. I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU.**  
  
A spike drilled into Janeway's skull, tearing her from Kes, and she heard herself howling again. Then...darkness. She was in a spotlight surrounded by pitch blackness. Slowly, her brain wrote itself a setting...a dark alley, rain drizzling down, Janeway beneath a streetlight. A figure approached, taller than any Human and wrapped in an immense coat that failed to conceal its alien movements.  
  
" **SPEAK** ," hissed the alien, lurking in the shadows.  
  
"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship  _Voyager_ ," Janeway said, keeping the quaver of fear from her voice. "The Borg--the cybernetic creatures whose ship you were boarding--are my enemy, as they are yours. They have attacked my people, taken my people, killed my people, and subjected them to a fate worse than death." Janeway's mind produced memories in the form of folders--memories of reading reports on Borg assimilation, the Jouret system colonies that were abducted en masse by the Collective, the degree of modifications that Riley and V'lek and their people had been subjected to, the naked fear of a single Borg cube crushing the Federation's full, formerly invincible power at Wolf 359, and finally the recordings from the  _Enterprise_ 's computer systems, showing the heroic defeat of the ultimate foe. She held out the folders. The creature took the folders with a massive, three-taloned hand, and began leafing through them. After a few moments, it looked up.  
  
" **YOUR MEMORIES FEEL TRUE. BUT YOU CONFUSE ME. WHY DOES YOUR SPECIES NOT RULE?** "  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
" **YOUR SPECIES IS THE STRONGEST IN YOUR FEDERATION. FROM WHAT YOUR MEMORIES SHOW, IT IS THE MOST NUMEROUS AND HAS THE MOST AND LARGEST NESTING GROUNDS. IT IS YOUR SPECIES' RIGHT TO RULE. WHY DO YOU ALLOW OTHER CLANS TO EXIST WITHIN YOURS?** "  
  
"We believe that strength comes from freedom, diversity, and tolerance," Janeway explained. "If Humans tried to force the other species of the Federation to do things, they would unite against us and destroy us. By working together, we are the strongest--well, the strongest clan in the area. Without the Federation, all of its species would be weaker than the Klingons, the Romulans, or even the Cardassians. Together, however, we are by far the strongest clan."  
  
The alien hummed. " **A CLEVER IDEA. RISKY, BUT CLEVER**." It handed the folders back, and Janeway felt the pressure on her mind begin to weaken, though something began to pulse repeatedly at the side of her head. " **WE HAVE PUSHED THE INVADERS FROM THEIR RIFT BETWEEN REALMS. MEET US THERE. WE WILL READY OUR CLAN FOR--WHO COMES?** "  
  
The pulsing in Janeway's head increased to a crescendo, then vanished. A humanoid form strode from the blackness to stand by Janeway in the light. "Captain. Are you in need of assistance?"  
  
"Tuvok! No, I'm...I'm alright." She motioned to the alien. "Just...having a conversation."  
  
" **THIS IS ONE OF YOUR CLAN?** "  
  
"Yes. This is Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok, my weapons officer. He's just making sure that I'm alright."  
  
"Greetings. I am honored to meet you."  
  
" **GREETINGS. WE ARE MU'TAHN-LA'A OF THE UNDINE. JANEWAY, THE UNDINE WILL MEET YOU AT THE RIFT BETWEEN REALMS. OUR CLANS WILL FIGHT AS ONE. THE WEAK SHALL PERISH.** " It vanished. Janeway felt a brief moment of vertigo, and...  
  
She was back on the bridge, and Janeway's vision swam. Something trickled down her face from her nose--blood? Tuvok released the side of her head and stumbled backwards.  
  
"Chakotay...Commander," Janeway managed. "Take us to that rift. The big one. Take us there, we've just got some backup."  
  
This time, when the darkness took her, Janeway fell into blissful nothing.  
***  
Lieutenant Harry Kim pulled his shirt on, straightened it, and pinned his pips on moments before the turbolift door opened. "Commander, sorry I'm late, sir."  
  
"No apologies necessary; given what we're heading into I'm honestly surprised that there were people on this ship  _not_  having sex over the past six hours. But I have to advise you to zip up your fly unless you want to be cited for being out of uniform on duty."  
  
Harry bit back a curse and zipped up his pants. Tom had a wicked grin already, damn it.  
  
"Hot date, eh Harry?"  
  
"Date ** _s_** , plural," Harry cut back. Tom choked on his own tongue.  
  
"You  _cheated_  on  _Megan Delaney_???"  
  
"Who said anything about cheating?" Harry challenged Tom with a grin. Tom opened his mouth, but fortunately for all but Harry Kim's ego Commander Chakotay stepped in.  
  
"That's enough, take your seats." Harry obeyed, wincing as he did so.  
  
As Harry tried to settle into his seat in a way that didn't hurt his rear end, Chakotay nodded to Paris. "Take us out of warp, and make a lot of noise."  
  
"Yes, sir." Paris's fingers danced over the console, and  _Voyager_  crash-translated to a near-immediate halt five thousand miles from the rift, sending ripples through the local subspace.  
  
"Undine ships approaching, Commander," Harry reported, perching on his upper thighs. Damn it, the next time he was between Megan and Piotr he needed to make sure he had at  _least_ an hour to recover before heading back on duty.  
  
"Kes, you're up."  
  
The Ocampa closed her eyes with a gulp, flexing her fingers against her chair's armrests. "Alright, sir. I'm reaching ou--" Her jaw snapped shut and her arms flexed, her breath escaping in a whine.  
  
"Crewman?"  
  
" **WE ARE READY**." Harry jumped, then hissed in pain as his buttocks complained. Kes turned, eyes fixed wide open, to Chakotay. " **INFORM CAPTAIN KATHRYN JANEWAY. OUR FORCES WILL MOVE FOR THE ATTACK IN THREE OF YOUR MINUTES. THIS ONE, KES, HAS PROVIDED US WITH THE MAPS AND KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU AND KATHRYN JANEWAY ORDERED HER TO MEMORIZE. THE MANY WILL BECOME STRONG, AND WILL DRIVE OFF THE INVADERS. THE WEAK SHALL PERISH!** "  
  
Kes slumped, gasping for breath. Chakotay found his voice after a moment.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes...yes, sir. They...they're so  _strong_ , Commander. An army united in one purpose. The Borg, the Borg  _attacked_  them, they went into the other dimension, the Undine's home, and tried to assimilate their breeding grounds. Now...there are  _ten thousand_  Undine ships here already, with nearly a hundred thousand more coming. The Borg are a virus, and they are an immune system."  
  
Harry saw Chakotay starting to grin in spite of himself. "Oh. Oh, this is going to be  _good_."  
***  
Mu'Tahn-La'a synced themself with their bioship's systems, hooking up their psionic amplifier and contacting the entire fleet.  **PREPARE FOR THE ATTACK. ENEMY POSITIONS HAVE BEEN DESIGNATED ACROSS THE MINDLINK. THE INFORMATION HAS BEEN GIVEN TO US BY OUR ALLY, THE CAPTAIN KATHRYN JANEWAY. WE SHALL BE VICTORIOUS, COMRADE-SIBLINGS. THE WEAK SHALL PERISH!  
  
THE WEAK SHALL PERISH! **chorused the soldiers of the Undine in response. Ten thousand vengeful warriors, ready to kill the murderers of their children. And Janeway had shown them the way...  
  
The one called Kes brushed Mu'Tahn-La'a's mind again. They extended the link to the alien, settling their bioship over Janeway's ship.  **WE ARE READY. PREPARE FOR CRUISING SPEED.  
**  
 _We understand. We can't be in the front lines, though..._    
  
 **I AM AWARE. YOU WILL BE IN THE REAR OF OUR FORMATION. I WILL MELD MY GREATBODY WITH YOURS AND BRING YOUR GREATBODY UP TO CRUISING SPEED.**  The bioship docked with the metallic vessel, tendrils clutching to the hull plating. Mu'Tahn-La'a allowed Kes to feel their thanks for the information on the enemy.  **TELL CAPTAIN KATHRYN JANEWAY THAT SHE WILL BE REMEMBERED IN OUR SONGS. OUR VENGEANCE AGAINST THE INVADERS IS AT HAND.**  They pulled back and sent to the mindlink at large.  **BEGIN**.   
***  
Kathryn Janeway woke up.   
  
"Ow. Fuck. Ow." Her head throbbed like a drum. A face above her swam into coherence. "Oh fuck my life. How bad was it, Commander?"   
  
Chakotay's face split into a million-watt grin. "You wouldn't believe me unless you see for yourself, Captain."   
  
"Cut the crap and tell me, I'm still in coffee withdrawal." She sat up, cursing fluently. "I seem to be alive, can I assume we won from your face?"   
  
"That's an understatement, sir," Chakotay replied. "The Undine tore the Borg to bits with ease--the Borg tried to adapt but the Undine were already using random frequency modulations to prevent that. Three hundred million Borg ships have been destroyed already as of fifteen minutes ago and more Undine are still joining the fight. We've salvaged a few drones and removed the Borg code, including a couple of Humans, and the Collective itself is retreating on every front based on the Undine's messages through Kes. And they're even giving us a boost on the way home--they can move incredibly quickly through their home dimension, with their help we can be home in  _three months_."   
  
Janeway's jaw dropped. "Impossible."   
  
"No, ma'am. When was the last time I lied?"   
  
"Two years ago, you made up a sacred holiday to get out of insect categorization after you promised Wildman."   
  
"Oh, right. Uh. Well, do I sound like I'm lying?"   
  
"Just get me to the Bridge so I can see for myself." Janeway hauled her ass off the biobed, hissing. "Where's the Doctor?"   
  
"At the party in the mess hall."   
  
"What's...never mind. Let's head down there, actually. And somebody get me some damn coffee while we're at it!" 


	5. (AU fic) The Last Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last days of the Third Federation-Klingon War, a joint Federation-Romulan strike team is deployed to rescue a colony from a Klingon incursion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in a variant of the alternate timeline of the TNG episode "Yesterday's Enterprise". The Federation and Klingons wear each other down in a war of attrition until the Feds successfully spark a Romulan uprising that cripples the Klingon Empire. The Federation re-arms rapidly, using replicators to churn out a vast fleet of cheap starships, then stomps the Cardassians flat when they start making noise on the border. The Klingons are defanged, pushed back on all fronts, and descend into civil turmoil. 
> 
> The Dominion War is a brutal slog between the Federation-Romulan Alliance and the Dominion. However, the highly militarized Federation is able to push the Dominion back, and forces them to retreat back to their home turf after Odo strong-arms the Founders into surrender and makes it clear that he ain't tolerating them messing with his friends. 
> 
> In the late 2390s (there was no Hobus supernova as in the prime timeline because Taris never encountered the Iconian ruins and started worshiping them), the Klingon Empire comes under the leadership of the ruthless, warlike revanchist Torg, son of Kormog, who promises to Make the Klingon Empire Great Again. Seeing the Federation and Romulans exhausted by the conflict, he launches a surprised attack, probing deep into Federation space. The Federation and Romulans strike back, though, and the tide slowly turns. By the time of the Star Trek Online MMO, the galaxy is consumed by yet another quadrant-wide war...

_July 6th, 2409. USS_ Vigilant,  _Approaching Zara IV, Arcaunis Arm star cluster, United Federation of Planets_.  
  
" _All hands, this is the Captain. All hands to battle stations, we are moving to engage a Klingon strike force attacking a Federation colony_."  
  
I wake up instinctively at the sounds of the yellow alert chimes. "Talur, Lamont, get up! Luiz, haul Kallio's hung-over ass out of bed!" I jump out of my bunk and scramble for my locker, looking for my underwear. "Ready for deployment in ten minutes, boys!" The Finn protests mightily as the half-awake Luiz yanks the sheets right off of him. My Bolian 2-IC throws open his locker beside me and takes a moment to kiss his wife's picture before throwing on his padded armorweave vest.   
  
I should probably introduce myself. My name's Rachel Connor, Lieutenant, Federation Military Assault-Command Operations Unit 131. Commissioned 2403, Purple Heart and honorable discharge for injuries in 2407, remanded to Starfleet Intelligence Special Operations Section Six after volunteering later that year, recommissioned in January 2408 and sent back to the front. I'm about 175 centimeters, two hundred and fifty pounds, brown eye, blonde hair (my one spot of vanity--spoiler alert, I dye it) cut down to stubble. My men are Oran Talur, Bolian, 1.9 meters, cerulean skin and green eyes, nice smile; Andrew Lamont, 2 centimeters below Talur but build like a tank, tan skin and blue eyes, neat goatee; Jose Luiz (formerly Legolas Marisu Moonchild before he enlisted and changed it), 2.1 meters of pure muscle, tattooed brown arms like tree trunks; and Aarno Kallio, 165 cm, Finnish, blonde with blue eyes and an easy grin. Good men.   
  
Talur shrugs his armorweave over his shoulders beside me. "Klingon strike force, L-T?"  
  
"That's what I heard." I find an athletic bra that doesn't smell too bad and swiftly don it--I need to remember to recycle my clothes more often, or at least clean them. "MACO Unit 131, we are ready for deployment in  _nine and one-half minutes_  or I'm throwing your ugly asses into the shuttle myself!"   
  
"Copy that!" Lamont calls back, the burly colonial from Terra Nova pulling on his socks. "Kallio, move!"  
  
"It's too damn early," the Finn grouses, grabbing his sniper rifle and a couple pieces of his combat hardsuit. "L-T, projectiles or phasers?"  
  
"Both, but bring Siiri." Kallio's favorite gun is a Tuonela Armaments Suomi M-18 kinetic DMR that he gave a fucking pet name to. It's a damn good gun, basically the same weapon that beat Krasnov's Russian Empire back in the Third World War and helped the USA defeat Trumpist forces in Operation Union, but upgraded with a simple replicator panel and an onboard cooling system. "Luiz, every fucking gun you can carry!" The massive Aldebaranian colonial salutes. I pull on my boots. "Talur, gimme a hand with the breastplate?"  
  
"Sure. What do the Klingons want in Arcaunis? Chancellor Torg's been pushing more towards the Romulan front." Ever since the Klingons came back with a vengeance in 2405, allying with the Gorn and Orions and attacking the Federation-Romulan alliance in the aftermath of the Dominion War,  _Fvillhu_  Velal's been the biggest thorn in the Chancellor's side. Hell, we've shared a ton of tech back and forth--the  _Phantom_ -class escorts, like  _Vigilant_ , even have cloaking tech now that Velal's dropped all pretense of upholding the Treaty of Algeron. There's even a pair of Romulan  _T'varo_ -class warbirds in our attack group. They're smaller than  _Vigilant_  but have better cloaks and they're fast as lightning. Useful to support the big battleship,  _Tellar Prime_ , a  _Yamato_ -class retrofit and redesign of the  _Galaxy_ -class battleship, with a third nacelle and an integrated phaser lance weapon for better orbital bombardment.  _Tellar Prime_  also has a full complement of Marines, but it's become standard policy to have a MACO unit stationed on all ships, even an escort like  _Vigilant_ , at least since we started taking tips from the Rommies after Velal couped, killed the Changelings that had taken over, and allied with us to screw the Dominion over.   
  
"Could be a scouting mission?"  
  
"Maybe. But von Bayern said..."  
  
"...they're attacking a colony. Might be raiders?" I lick my lips at the thought. If this is a raiding party, I'm gonna have some  _fun_  fucking up some Orion bitches.  
  
"We'll know in a few minutes," Talur notes grimly. "Help me with the breastplate?"  
  
"Sure." He turns, and I clip his backplate to his breastplate's joints, activating the automatic seal. "Get your helmet on, Senior Chief. Petty Officer Luiz, where the  _fuck_  is your fucking missile launcher?"  
  
"Armory, L-T."  
  
"Get a move on and get it, meet us in the shuttlebay ASAP." We're winning the war--kicking  _huge_  amounts of ass up and down the front, the Rommies just fucked the Klinks up the ass in the Bassen Rift and were moving to trap the Klingons' last fleet at Khitomer last I checked, but this little case of the Klingons getting a second wind just goes to show that we need to always be ready for anything. Fortunately, my boys and I are.   
  
"Roger, sir."  
  
I strap my phaser pistol to my hip, grab a bandolier of grenades and throw it on, clip a submachine gun to my other hip, stick a phaser battle rifle to my back with the mag-clips, slide a 9-mm kinetic pistol into my thigh holster, and pick up an Ariake Technologies S-47 kinetic assault rifle, a retro-styled design that looks a bit like a Third World War-era P-90. Talur's sealed his gauntlets on and passes me my helmet with one hand as his other fits a pistol of his own into its holster. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem." He grabs his own helmet and seals it as we trot out the door, Kallio and Lamont right behind. I pull up my HUD and blink the coms on. "Coms check."  
  
"Talur here."  
  
"Lamont here."  
  
"Luiz here."  
  
"Kallio here, I need to grab a quick painkiller."  
  
"Go, remember, shuttlebay in five."  
  
"Sir."  
  
My coms ping the priority line. I answer. "Connor."  
  
"Leutenant _, this is_ Kapitän  _von Bayern. The Klingons launched a surprise attack on the Zara IV mining colony, population just over ten thousand. We're moving in to take it back. Your mission is to land via shuttle with a Rihan team and prevent the Klingons from achieving total control of the planet while we hold off the Klingons and give you support and air superiority_." Von Bayern--Captain Ludwig Ernst Oskar Kraus von Bayern--is a career-military German, stuffy but not a dick about it, turns a blind eye to fucking as long as it doesn't happen in C-of-C. Good Captain, as Captains go.   
  
"Understood, sir. Boys, you get all that?"   
  
"Crystal clear, L-T," Talur replies.   
  
"We're good to go in five, sir."   
  
"Viel Glück _,_ Leutenant," the Captain replies. " _You drop in fifteen minutes. Von Bayern out._ "  
***  
_Zara IV._  
  
Captain K'vor, son of Tavok, scowled as he oversaw the Federation prisoners. "Only one marine platoon? Not even MACOs? In the middle of a  _war_? What a pathetic excuse for--"  
  
"It is a minor colony, only recently founded," his superior growled. K'vor fell silent instantly. General Ch'zog, son of Garon,  _Dahar_  master and leader of the House of Qualta, stepped forward to stand beside the younger man. "And the Federation has been suffering major manpower shortages--that, coupled with the Empire's recent losses, doubtless made this colony a low priority for troop placement. Furthermore, MACOs serve only on starships for special-operations missions. Pray that you never meet  _them_ , boy." The white-haired Klingon crossed his still-mighty arms and looked the prisoners up and down. "And yet these marines on an undersupported minor colony still took down twenty-six of our men against overwhelming numbers, and refused to surrender. They have courage, skill, and honor. _Never_  dismiss or underestimate your enemy, K'vor. I have killed a hundred mighty foes through exploiting their own hubris."  
  
"Yes, Master Ch'zog." The young man sounded humbler. Good. He reminded Ch'zog of his grandson, or how his grandson had been fifteen years ago, when his own son, Ch'zog's great-grandson, was still just into  _jak'tahla_. Flush with youth, but willing to learn. Good. Promoting K'vor had been a sound decision.  
  
The  _Dahar_  master crouched before one of the marines as he began to awaken. Four men left out of twenty--three who'd been knocked out by a concussive charge, one who'd been slammed into a wall while wrestling with a Klingon warrior. The Andorian before Ch'zog blinked his way to wakefulness, shaking his head blearily to cope with his severed antennae.  
  
"Wha--oh, shit. Corporal Tha'tir th'Andras, SU2406--"  
  
"Hello, Corporal," Ch'zog interrupted. "I am Ch'zog, son of Garon. You have fought well. But you have been defeated--have no shame, you fought with great courage!--and now, I need your help."  
  
"Go to the Wastes."  
  
Ch'zog bared his teeth. "Good! You still have a warrior's spirit. But you see, Corporal th'Andras," and he said that part in flawless Imperial Andorii, "you have  _lost_. I have a thousand men who are dedicated ground troops, and I know that there are ten thousand civilians and approximately one hundred partially-trained civilian police still on this continent. My battle group controls the system and my men are already deploying across the planet. I do not want to waste lives, Corporal th'Andras, and there is no honor in killing civilians. If you broadcast a request for the civilians to surrender peacefully, I will see you, your surviving men, and all of the colonists safely repatriated to the Federation."  
  
"I know what you people do to prisoners, and I know what Chancellor Torg's Orion cronies like to do to their slaves," the Andorian snarled. "I'd rather die."  
  
Ch'zog smiled, baring his teeth again. " _torgh Qang_  has no power here, nor do his pathetic slaver lapdogs. If you comply, I swear on the honor of the House of Qualta to--" His communicator chimed, and Ch'zog pulled back. "One moment." He tapped the communicator. " _ja'_!"  
  
" _Master Ch'zog, the_ K'taran _has detected an unusual tachyon burst near the Oort cloud of the system. It may be nothing, but I believe that it is--_ "  
  
"...a cloaked ship exiting warp. You are to be commended." He turned to K'vor. "You are ready for a challenge, Captain. Secure the colony, and I will judge your skill."  
  
"It shall be done,  _Dahar_  Master," the young man vowed, clapping his fist to his chest.  
  
"Good. Ch'zog to  _tlhInSa_! One to beam up!" He vanished in a swirl of red light.  
  
K'vor turned to the Andorian. Corporal th'Andras sneered up at him. "You going to torture me now, Klink?"  
  
"Do not insult me," K'vor snarled back. "It is no victory to defeat a man unarmed and bound. To torture you would be both foolish and beneath me."  
  
The Andorian blinked. "...What?"  
  
K'vor sneered. " _torgh Qang_  and his allies may have forgotten the meaning of  _quv_ and  _batlh_ , but some of us remember the honor of the Empire." He turned, motioning to a younger man, college-age by Federation standards. "Kevtek! I want to set up a command center in here. Keep a constant guard on the prisoners, give them medical care as needed."  
***  
_IKS_ tlhInSa _. Zara IV orbit._  
  
Ch'zog, son of Garon, slid easily into his command chair. "Log, commendation for Sensor Officer Lieutenant G'dahn, minimum citation for good service. End log. Ch'zog to all vessels, a cloaked Federation force is likely inbound. Commence antiproton sweep on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark!"  
  
As he gave the command, a  _Yamato-_ class Federation battleship--a powerful hybrid battleship, bombardment vessel, and carrier based on the  _Galaxy_ -class spaceframe--tore out of cloak and rained a hail of phaser fire on Ch'zog's own battlecruiser. A pair of  _T'varo_ -class Romulan warbirds shimmered out of empty space on either flank of the battleship and opened fire.   
  
"Evasive maneuvers! Concentrate fire on the battleship!" barked Ch'zog. "Escorts, remain in cloak!" He calmly calculated odds as the battleship's phaser fire ripped into the shields and scored the hull of  _tlhInSa_ , the birds-of-prey still in cloak per standard red alert protocol. A  _Negh'tev_ -class battlecruiser, the modern descendant of the  _Negh'Var_ -class that had served so well in the last war with the Kinshaya, and six  _Norgh_ -class birds of prey, versus a battleship and two escorts. The Federation would have more in cloak, Ch'zog was sure. They had learned well since their first experiments with cloaks, after their alliance with the  _romuluSnganpu'_ in the Dominion War. The  _romuluSnganpu'_ , of course, were the undisputed masters of cloaking attacks, and their discipline under Praetor Velal was admirable.   
  
That was bad for Ch'zog, though. And he needed every advantage he could get, here; the pitched battle that had started hours ago on the Romulan front would likely decide the war, and if they lost...well, then, these were the last days of a dying empire.   
  
" _Morath's Fist, Gre'thor,_ target the escorts.  _Kortar, Molor's Wrath_ , flank the battleship while we hold its attention.  _Mogh's Revenge_ ,  _K'taran_ , fall back to the planet and start an antiproton sweep, this battleship may be a distraction. Commence attack! Tactical, bring us about, load torpedoes!"  
  
" _Qapla'!_ "  
  
Ch'zog's lips tightened into a smile as the the Federation battleship, less maneuverable than  _tlhInSa_ , came into view on the viewscreen, another broadside of phaser beams flaring out as the Romulan escorts closed in at sixty-degree angles to either side. "Fire all forward batteries!"  
  
Paired disruptor beams lashed out, ripping into the Federation warship's shields. "Torpedoes, full spread!" barked Ch'zog. The battleship's shields were wavering, but so were  _tlhInSa_ 's own...the antimatter warheads detonated against the battleship's shields. "Roll ship! Open fire with the flank batteries, and hit that escort when they reach our forward firing arc!"  
  
"Yes, General!"  
  
_tlhInSa_  rolled in space. Ch'zog expanded his tactical plot; one of the warbirds' nacelles exploded in an actinic flash as it was speared by the cannons of two birds-of-prey. Ch'zog did not need to tell his warriors to refocus on the battleship as the warbird ejected the its core to avoid a breach. The old man felt a stab of pride at their discipline. There was hope for the Empire yet.  
  
The broadside pounded into the  _Yamato_ -class as  _tlhInSa_  came parallel. The  _T'varo_  pulled around with lightning speed, and Ch'zog grinned. "Ignore the escort. Take down the battleship."  
  
" _General! A Federation cloakship!_ " Ch'zog snapped his white-haired head back to the tactical plot. He recognized that profile-- _Phantom_ -class stealth attack ship.  _Clever, but not unpredictable._  
  
"Eliminate them."  
  
The birds-of-prey opened fire, but the  _Phantom_ -class was as fast as lightning. Ch'zog bared his teeth again. "A good fight, Federation, yet not clever enough. Conn, pull us around their rear. Tactical, maintain fire with the starboard batteries. Load torpedoes and ready on my mark."  
  
"Starboard shields at one-quarter strength and dropping!" snarled the operations officer.  
  
"Hold course. Conn, make the turn as tight as you can."  
  
"Taking damage to rear shields!"  
  
"The other warbird." Ch'zog allowed himself a second of consideration. " _Kortar_ , distract them. Tactical, focus fire on the battleship's engines. I want them disabled."  
  
"Yes, General!"  
  
The white-haired Klingon gripped his armrest tighter as the rear of the Federation battleship once more came into the more maneuverable Klingon vessel's sights. "All forward batteries, fire!"  
  
"Their shields are down, General, looks like we got one of the emitters! Torpedoes ready!"  
  
"Low yield strikes to the nacelles, I want them  _disabled_!"  
  
"Firing, General!"  
  
Warheads streaked out, and brief eruptions snapped one of the battleship's nacelles in two. Ch'zog grinned, flush with victory. "Excellent! Ready another volley from the forward batteries, target their weapons..."  
  
" _General, the Federation strike ship is retreating!_ "  
  
"Kortar _here, Master Ch'zog. The_ romuluSngan _cloaked and pulled out._ "  
  
Sensing defeat and cutting their losses. Intelligent. The Federation had learned since the days of Ch'zog's youth. "Good. Comms, hail the Federation vessel."  
  
"Channel open, Master Ch'zog."  
  
"Federation battleship, this is General Ch'zog, son of Garon. My ship's weapons are trained on your weapon ports, your engines are heavily damaged, and I believe that your shields are wholly or partially offline. I give you this one offer: Surrender now, and my men will do you and your  _romuluSngan_  allies no harm, and will see you repatriated for a modest ransom. If not, we will board your vessel, take it by force with all incidental casualties that come with that force, and repatriate your crew to the Federation at a later date. You have two minutes."  
  
A grainy Tellarite face resolved itself on the viewscreen, looking surly as defeated Tellarites often war. " _This is Commodore Trahak of the Federation starship_ Tellar Prime _. How can we trust you, ridgeface?_ "  
  
Ch'zog bared his teeth. "Your insults give you no succor, Captain. Suffice it to say that I am not without mercy, and that I see no reason to--"  
  
"K'taran _to Master Ch'zog! A shuttle made it off of the cloakship before they retreated, we didn't catch it until it got into the lower atmosphere! We think they airdropped something in!_ "  
  
Ch'zog began to chuckle. "Oh, Commodore! You are a clever man indeed! What did you send in, MACOs?"  
  
" _A full squad armed to the teeth, with backup_ ," the Tellarite growled. " _It'll take you weeks to fully secure the planet now, enough time for reinforcements to get here._ "  
  
"Unless I glass the entire area of the city down to the bedrock, of course," Ch'zog noted. "But that does not interest me, though not, I suspect, for the reasons that you believed it would not. I have no need of slaves, Commodore, but I would not waste this opportunity for true,  _pure_ war for anything. Comms, contact Captain K'vor. Tell him that his wish is granted, and that I expect the best from him. Your decision, Commodore?"  
  
" _Will you give me ten minutes to ask my men?_ "  
  
"You have two, Commodore." Ch'zog's voice was iron; the old  _Dahar_  master was no fool. Trahak nodded bitterly and turned to an officer behind him, the communication cutting out. The Klingon settled back into his seat with a satisfied grin. "Prepare to receive prisoners, and ready engineering teams to take control of that dreadnought and repair it. You know what I demand."  
***  
_Above Zara IV_  
  
Airdrop from 10,000 feet is the preferred method of shuttle-based insertion, and the standard insertion method if transporter dampeners are up. The Rommies train in a similar way, but they still called us insane for going in with a grand total of 10 men. Screw 'em, if the pointy-ears want to be prissy they can wait for reinforcements. But now we've got a colony to liberate.  
  
"Here's the plan!" I shout over group comms, the force of the wind causing all of our helmets to vibrate enough to make shouting necessary. "We move in  _fast_ , try for a decap shot on the Klingon base, keep the defense shields up so they don't just bug out and glass us. We do that, we hold the building for six hours, and the Third Fleet can get here with some motherfrakking backup. We're on a clock, so stick to your paces, you all know the drill."  
  
" _Understood_ ,"  _Erei'arrain_  Nveid i'Ra'tleihfi tr'Shaien, a rare Romulan male spec-ops officer, replies. " _HUDs maintaining synchronization_."  
  
"Good. You're around the back like we went over, we go head first through the front."  
  
" _Would it not be better to go_ feet _first?_ "  
  
I chuckle. "Not for me. I'm  _good_  with gorram headbutts. Alright, we're almost there, chutes ready in FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! PULL!"  
  
Our chutes flare, and my body is jerked down to about a tenth of its velocity in a microsecond. The slightly burned-out wreck of a two-year-old startup colonial town approaches rapidly, and I try to angle myself for the brushy area outside the furthest houses. The town's laid out radially, with four major and eight minor boulevards cut by regularly-spaced circular streets; standard UFP startup pattern. "Try to stay grouped, but not too close!"  
  
"Au'e, rekkhai!" I like modding my translator, lends people's voices a little more color if I leave the more common phrases untranslated.  
  
"Kallio, try to get a building, I want you nested up and ready to snipe by the time we're ready for the ground assault!"  
  
"Kyllä, yliluutnantti.  _I'm already scoping out a nice, solid one_."  
  
"Alright, you damn apes. Let's kick some Klingon ass!"  
  
" _OOH-RAH!_ "  
  
While I said we're hitting the command center head-first, we  _land_  feet-first. I hit the ground hard, but my legs compensate easily, and I seamlessly depolarize my chute, the nanofibers retracting onto the spools in the back of my suit. "Talur, with Kallio. Lamont, Luiz, with me.  _Erei'arrain_ , get it done." My phaser gun, a TR-18 battle rifle designed specifically for commando missions, is already in my hands. "Move out!"  
***  
"Six men to a squad, watch  _every_  boulevard! Two cover the street, one covers the alleys on the left, one covers the alleys on the right, two move ahead to seize positions. I want eyes on the roofs, find high spots with good cover, every man in sight of two others at  _all_ times! The remainder will remain here until needed as support at my discretion. Go!" Kevtek saluted and raced out with his PDA. Captain K'vor huffed a breath and spared a glance for Corporal th'Andras. "What,  _anD'orngan_?"  
  
"Those are...good tactics," the Andorian admitted. "More cautious than Starfleet briefings say Klingons use."  
  
"Master Ch'zog's first mandate; do  _not_  waste your men's lives," K'vor growled. "It is foolish, wasteful, and beneath the dignity of a Klingon warrior. A death in defense of Qo'noS itself is always glorious; a death because your commanding officer could not be bothered to order a scan for improvised explosives is not."  
  
"Not very Klingon of you."  
  
K'vor backhanded him. The Andorian crumpled sideways, yelping with pain. " _Never_  say that again, if you wish to ever be repatriated. You are witness to a true battle today,  _anD'orngan_ , and you  _will not_ disrespect that sacred struggle."  
  
"Captain!" growled the younger Klingon, Kevtek, from the doorway. "We have contact with the enemy, a squad of five attacking the north checkpoint!"  
  
"So it begins," snarled K'vor. "Now I shall finally face a  _real_  challenge! Observe,  _anD'orngan_. This is what it means to be Klingon."  
***  
What the  _fuck_  is wrong with these Klinks? They're mostly Klingons, with only a couple of Acamarians, Nausicaans, and Gorn in specialist roles rather than as expendable infantry battalions like the Klinks usually use the vassal species, and no greenskins in sight. More importantly, they're fighting  _smart_ ; we only got within a hundred and fifty meters of the town borders proper before a pair of Klinks in the gutted remains of a gatehouse opened fire on us. Luiz and I took them out, but they still scorched his armor pretty heavily and raised the alarm before we got 'em. Now I'm trading potshots with a six-man Klink team as Luiz tries to perform emergency field maintenance on his rocket launcher by hitting the sparking mess of failed Yoyodyne "engineering" with his palm and cursing. "Lamont, give me cover!" No point in counting their shots anymore, the fuckers have staggered fire down pat. It's fucking  _annoying_ when the enemy remembers how to do more than fuck missionary.  
  
"Copy that!" The colonial leans out and snaps out a wide-beam phaser pulse at the Klinks; one of the guys moving ahead when we hit 'em managed to hauled himself into a building even with his busted leg (courtesy of yours truly) and the other five are holding defensive positions behind a roadblock of shutters and furniture. The two men standing up duck back as Lamont snaps out three more shots, and I duck out from behind my building corner and break into a charge. I interface with my suit through my cranial implant, pressing the motorization to the max and activating the thrusters on the back, and rocket up and forwards. Starfleet Special Ops Section Six's extremely expensive technology at its finest.  
  
My spinal reinforcements snap into place and my right arm locks in as I leap nearly two meters in the air. I ram my right's motors and my suit's onboard servos to the max, crashing into the barricade with the force of a charging rhino. Klingons curse and shout as they're thrown backwards; I catch myself on my right and legs, the fist driving three inches into the pavement, then stand, grabbing a disoriented Klingon with my left, and ram him face-first into a confused Gorn. The Gorn stays up; the Klink goes limp and crumples when I drop him. My right crashes into the Gorn before it can bring its massive strength to bear against me, and it crumples backwards, ribcage shattered. I spin, side-kicking a charging Klingon with a crescent-shaped  _bat'leth_  through the half-destroyed wall of a tool shop, then drop to the ground as the two Klinks left pull up their guns and disruptor fire crisscrosses the air over me. I lash out, and one Klingon is knocked flat as I trip him, and I roll sideways to avoid another disruptor shot.  
  
Lamont takes the last Klingon out with a phaser to the chest on heavy stun before he can shoot.  
  
"Nice shot, thanks, Lamont. Move up!" More Klingons are coming, my sonar and thermo vision are showing eight incoming signatures. I duck through the broken window, see the Klink I shot in the leg with my S-47 against the wall patching himself up, and pull out my phaser sidearm, stunning him. Don't want him picking up a gun and shooting me in the back.   
  
My comms ping. "L-T, this is Talur, we're--agh!"   
  
"Talur?" I wait a moment. "Shit. Talur?" Fuck. I'm out of time. The Klinks are too close. I focus back on the road, hoping that Talur can make it out of whatever shit he's in.   
  
My coolant systems start pumping in my limbs, and I tap my cardiopulmonary monitor to even out my heart rate and breathing. More troops are following the eight incoming, and there's a lot of them. "Take cover, boys, more Klinks coming in!"  
  
Lamont vaults over the sill and rushes to take a position by the door. Luiz crouches under a windowsill on the other side. The Klingon heat and sonar sigs bunch up, then a black orb is tossed out into the boulevard.  
  
"Flashbang!" I bark, shutting my right eye and driving my bionic left's sensitivity down to a tenth of a percent. Lamont and Luiz just duck, but it gives me an extra half-second as the Klingons storm out.  
  
Not all of them are Klingons, I notice as I start pegging them with my phaser, sending the soldiers scattering for cover. There's another Gorn, a massive lizard species that the Klinks annexed twenty years ago, as well as a pair of Acamarians, a clannish species with brown blood (something about both iron and copper in it? I skipped freshman bio for some engineering classes, I wanted combat engineer certification) that joined the Empire in the face of Klingon disruptors five years later. Acamarians are fast, but not as fast as me, and they're less durable than Klingons; the massive Gorn is the biggest threat.  
  
The Klingons return fire, disruptors scoring my shields and the wall. I snap off another couple of shots with my TR-18, and two of the Klingons duck back with curses. Lamont and Luiz are up now, but there are more Klinks than MACOs in this fight. I need to keep the momentum up.  
  
"Luiz, throw a grenade, break 'em up a bit! I'll cover you!" I synch my implants with my suit, using my batteries to supercharge my shields, and stand up all the way. "Now!"   
  
The big guy throws a frag grenade down the road fastball style, disruptor pulses scoring my shields. My HUD flashes a power drain alert; I'll need to let my fuel cells recharge for a minute or two before I can overcharge my limbs or shields again. The grenade hits, and Klingons curse and scramble out of cover as Lamont and I plug them.   
  
"Move up!"   
  
The Gorn's still up, I notice as I move in. It sees me moving ahead of the boys, and hisses. I shoot it in the head, but its shields absorb the blast. The Gorn charges, ponderous but incredibly powerful, a juggernaut of raw muscle that even my cybernetics can barely compete with.   
  
I roll sideways as the Gorn thunders past, but his right claw catches my helmet and rips it clean off, tearing into my remaining ear and almost snapping my neck before my spinal reinforcements lock it in place. I land, reorient, see the Gorn turning....  
  
I leap, pistoning off the ground on my cybernetic legs, grabbing the Gorn by the shoulders, and then  _slam_  my forehead into his. The tritanium plate sutured to my skull cracks his mere bone, and he--she?--collapses, unconscious. Disruptor fire singes my shields. "Lamont! Cover me!" I tap the implant complex that covers the right side of my face, activating the onboard mic and coms. "Talur, this is Connor, do you copy?" A Klingon cries out as he gets hit by a phaser pulse.   
  
No response. Shit. Do I call it off? No. There's no extraction, and we can't let a Section Six combat cyborg fall into enemy hands. "Talur! Last chance, come in, damn it." Lamont's gun sounds, and the last Acamarian drops. We've got a moment to regroup.   
  
Still no response. "Lamont, Luiz, Talur's been captured or killed. They're gonna flood us next."   
  
"Copy that, LT. We got a plan?"   
  
"Yeah. Each of you boys take cover on either side." I rev the motors in my legs, flexing to make sure the joints are still working right. "I've got an idea."   
***  
"Master Ch'zog! More starships entering the system"   
  
The old Klingon looked up from his PDA. "Identification?"   
  
" _qarDaSnganpu'_ ,  _Dahar_  Master! Reading two  _Galor_ -class, two  _Hideki_ -class! We're being hailed!"   
  
"On screen." Ch'zog crossed his arms. "You are intruding on a Klingon military operation,  _qarDaSngan_. Leave now, before we remove your choice in the matter."   
  
" _Klingon warships, this is Jagul Aman Evek, Cardassian Volunteer Expeditionary Force. We have no intention of leaving, and Alliance reinforcements are less than an hour away; surrender immediately or be destroyed_."   
  
"Your request is denied.  _Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam_!" Ch'zog nodded to the communications officer, who killed the channel. "We do this like the approach to Cirini Prime. Form up!"   
  
Birds-of-prey slipped up beside  _tlhInSa_  like hunting falcons. "Let us see if you fare better than the Federation, Jagul Evek," Ch'zog growled. "All ships, keep scanners active and watch for those cloakships that escaped! Attack!"   
***  
The offensive had failed. K'vor snarled in frustration and rage at his failure. He had underestimated the MACOs' strength, and his men had paid for it.  _You fool! Master Ch'zog TOLD you not to underestimate the enemy!_  K'vor frantically tried to find some way,  _any_  way to solve this mess.   
  
"They're getting close," th'Andras noted, standing openly next to the Klingon now, though his hands were still firmly shackled behind him. "And reinforcements are in the system. Only Cardassians, sure, but..."  
  
"I know," K'vor replied, voice even but taut. "This is what it means to make war,  _anD'orngan_. It is a match that determines the mightiest warrior. And I may not be the best; if so, that is to be accepted, and hopefully later corrected."  
  
"You're...awfully nonchalant about this."  
  
The Klingon shrugged. "The  _tlhIngan wo'_ is doomed,  _anD'orngan_.  _torgh Qang_  has not the skill at war, nor the numbers at his back to defeat the Federation  _and_  the  _romuluSnganpu'_  at once. Our Empire is dying, and this time the Federation will surely have no mercy. I fight here to stem the tide, to keep some shred of the glory of the Klingon people alive as their greatest achievement crumbles. I go to this sacred struggle of war for my people and for our ideals, and I will fight with the ancient honor of my ancestors until my last breath. Otherwise, there is no hope."  
  
"Your men are getting their asses kicked," the Andorian noted. "They may have the Romulans pinned down and you may've got the sniper team, but there's a MACO hit team out there, probably with one of the new combat cyborgs they've been deploying. You've lost over sixty men out of a hundred, and the remaining nine hundred men on the planet are hundreds of miles away and can't be transported while your fleet's under attack. If you don't surrender, you and all your men are probably gonna die."  
  
"Death happens," K'vor snarled, clutching the table on which the portable command console had been placed hard enough to make the faux-wood creak. "And my honor demands that I and every one of my men fight and die for our nation. We knew this from the moment we landed on the planet,  _anD'orngan_. A Klingon warrior does not deal death needlessly, but accepts it as part of life. I would think that a warrior people such as yours would understand."  
  
"We're  _soldiers_ , not  _warriors_ ," th'Andras snapped back. "We fight with discipline in defense of our homes, and we do so only because it is necessary! We don't fight as a competition for personal glory because we like the sound of a war!"  
  
K'vor bared his teeth again, but did not strike the Andorian. "Discipline is something that all true warriors must have, for without it there is only inevitable defeat. And fighting in defense of home and family is the highest glory to which a Klingon can aspire,  _anD'orngan_."  
  
"You're still fighting for Torg and his slaver minions in an aggressive war for territory and political glory."  
  
"I fight for my nation because it is  _my home_ ," snarled K'vor, " _for better or for worse_. And even were the  _tlhIngan wo'_  NOT dying, I would still be eager for the sacred rite of war."  
  
"War isn't  _sacred_ ," the Andorian growled. "It's a brutal, bloodthirsty mess that gets even worse as the forces get better!"  
  
"Do you know the origin of the Klingons,  _anD'orngan_? The  _real_  history, not the myths?"  
  
"You evolved on a geologically unstable planet with a harsh climate and wildlife," th'Andras replied.  
  
"Correct. From the dawn of our civilization, struggle has  _defined_  the Klingon people. Struggle against nature itself, against the Hur'q that invaded Qo'noS, against the tyrants of the early days, who our mythology remember as the singular Molor, against the  _romuluSnganpu'_  and Federation and others. War is the highest culmination of the Klingon ideal. Two warriors, locked in combat, their skill and courage and wits matched like a game of  _tlhInSa_ , and life itself the stakes.  _That_  is why we make war,  _anD'orngan_. Everything that we  _are_  is  _defined_  by struggle, by war. True war is like a pilgrimage to the monasteries of Boreth; a rare event to be celebrated for its holy significance, even as we fight desperately for our very lives. This is what it means to be Klingon,  _anD'orngan_. This is why I show respect for my fellow warriors in this most holy of conflicts, even though they stand opposite me. This is why you stand with me now, as my enemy and my prisoner, Corporal th'Andras. This is why the  _tlhIngan wo'_ is doomed, for  _torgh Qang_  does not respect the sanctity of war, and brings filthy slavers and other such undisciplined dogs into a match of wits and courage." He pulled his communicator armband up to his mouth. "Suppressing fire! Keep that supersoldier pinned down!" Three more red lights blinked out in quick succession. K'vor snarled.   
  
"You've got thirty men left, half of them stuck containing those Romulans," th'Andras noted. "That MACO team is too good."   
  
"I  _know_. Delta squad, redirect to assist against the MACOs. Hold the line for Qo'noS and the  _tlhIngan wo'_!"   
***  
I grab the Acamarian who's managed to be the last man standing with one tritanium hand to his neck, lift him effortlessly off the ground as he struggles and wheezes, and slam him against my forehead plate, then toss his body aside. "Tr'Shaien. Lucky for you I pulled your ass out of the fire, huh?"   
  
The Romulan grimaces. "They had us outnumbered. You lost two men, though."   
  
"I got coms chatter--Talur and Kallio got their asses captured, yeah." I took an RPG to the face about ten minutes back and had to ditch most of my armor, so my cybernetic arms and legs are exposed. My remaining Human bits--torso, most of my head--are scuffed, bruised, and filthy. I've looked myself in a mirror after missions before; with my red cyber-eye and the metal covering most of the right side of my face ever since the shuttle crash in the Hromi Cluster campaign, it's a pretty intimidating effect. To his credit, tr'Shaien doesn't even blink. I continue. "I'm picking up a Klingon, couple of Humans, and an Andorian in there. The Humans aren't moving. I'm gonna head in and kick some ass, you lot follow me. Clear?"   
  
Tr'Shaien slots a new power cell into his gun. "Of course."   
  
"Good." I turn my phaser on the doors of the city hall and blow them clean off their hinges. "Follow me!"   
  
The entry hall is silent. I scan for traps as I trot along the corridor; nothing that I can see. The door's closed and presumably locked--I lock my fingers into position, then slam my right arm into the door at the far right, forcing it backwards with a snarl and a shriek of servos. A disruptor fires, scoring my shields, and I tap my batteries for a little more power.   
  
"You have fought well, Federation!" roars the Klingon as I step inside. Younger than I expected; he's smarter than most, too. Poor kid, I almost don't want to kick his ass. Talent is so rare these days. "But I am a warrior of the Klingon Empire! I will fight until it is no longer possible!"   
  
I move for him slowly. The Andorian's on the ground with a lump on his head. Talur and Kallio are up against the wall with three other Humans, all bound and gagged. Lamont and tr'Shaien spread out behind me, moving to flank the Klink. "Give up, kid. It's over. You did a fucking good job, delayed us for over forty minutes. But you're out of men and unless your ships in space get transporters back up in the next thirty seconds there's no way you're getting any more before the fleet gets here and you have to bug out."   
  
"It is  _never_  over," the Klingon insists. "Today will be a day long remembered, Federation! It  _must_ be, for the sake of the Empire!"   
  
"Last chance. Surrender and I won't kick your ass too badly."   
  
The disruptor fires again. " _Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!_ "   
  
I'm moving before he finishes the sentence. I knock the disruptor out of his hand with one blow, then spin-kick him into a wall. I drop my pistons down a couple of RPM so that I don't break his neck as I grab him with my left and slam him up against it again, but it still makes him gasp and groan.   
  
"No. Today's a shitty fucking day to die." I step on the disruptor, crushing it with the full force of my right leg, then toss the kid down, a bit more gently than necessary. "Tie him up. And get the prisoners out while you're at it." It's odd. Normally the only time Klinks take prisoners is when there's Orions with 'em, and I haven't seen a greenskin yet.   
  
"How many," the young man wheezes.   
  
"How many what?"   
  
"How many of my men did you kill, Federation? I must know the depth of my failure."   
  
"Failure? Kid, are you...is this your first command?"   
  
He manages a nod as Lamont hauls him up and starts cuffing him. "Master Ch'zog trained me himself. He wanted me to have field experience against more than  _leHengan_  pirates. I have seen men die, Federation, do not think me some child fresh from the stones of Qo'noS..."   
  
"But it's harder when you give the order yourself." He nods. "About thirty. Most of them I just put out and zip-tied for later, took the power cells from their disruptors and broke the guns. Some I killed." I get closer, looking him in the eye. "Where are the other Marines? The civilians?"   
  
"The Marines died like warriors. They were buried honorably. The civilians are under guard in an outlying settlement three hundred miles away that we captured in the initial assault."   
  
"Where are the Orions?"   
  
He spits. " _quvHa' or'yon'nganpu'_! We have no need of those honorless targ-spawn! The Gorn, Acamarians, and Nausciaans are warriors worthy of the Klingon name, but the Orion?" He spits again. "I would rather cut out my own heart with a dull knife than consort with those slavers."   
  
I frown. "You're really not an ordinary Klingon, are you?"   
  
"I am a  _true_  Klingon! I follow the ways of Kahless, of the  _Dahar_  Masters Kang, Koloth, and Kor." Lamont puts a hand on his shoulder, and he sits. "You have defeated me, Federation. But you will never break my spirit."   
  
I get a comm ping on my cranial implant. "One sec. This is Lieutenant Connor, MACO unit 131."   
  
" _Lieutenant Connor, this is_ Enriov _Satali i'Ra'tleihfi ei'Card'has t'Tyrava, aboard warbird_ Eyhon Eludet'eri  _of the_ Galae s'Shiar Rihan _. We are inbound with an ETA of thirty seconds, with a full dreadnought attack group._ "   
  
"A full--what about the push in the Neutral Zone?"   
  
Admiral t'Tyrava's voice is flush with the pride and elation of victory. " _A complete victory_. Fvillhu _Velal i'Ra'tleihfi killed Chancellor Torg himself. The Klingons are in full retreat, and Torg's son has been assassinated by rival nobles, who are suing for peace._ " I look to the boys, who nod, tr'Shaien pumping his fist in the air as they get the same transmission over their comms. " _The war is over,_ Arrain!"   
  
Another voice cuts in to my comms. " _Romulan Grand Fleet vessels, this is Jagul Aman Evek, Cardassian Volunteer Expeditionary Force. The Klingon starships under_ Dahar _Master Ch'zog have just surrendered to me. Please do not attack them when you exit warp_." I turn the volume down with a thought and crouch down by the Klingon. "Hey. What's your name?"   
  
"I am K'vor, son of Tavok," he says, voice cracking. "Not that it matters anymore."   
  
"Fuck that." I sit down in front of the guy, crossing my grey metal legs. "You kicked ass today."   
  
"I got my men  _killed_  for  _nothing_!"   
  
"And you beat my men's asses." I put a hand on his shoulder. He reminds me a bit of me, when they hauled me out of that mess in the Hromi cluster and boosted me with experimental cybernetics. "Your Empire just lost its leader, a shitload of its fleet, and a major war. They need someone to show them the way. And you--you've got more honor than any other Klingon I've met, and you're  _smart_. You and whoever taught you--you  _have_  to go back there. Make the Acamarians and Gorn and Nausicaans full partners, force the Orions to ditch slavery--there's plenty of lower-class Orions who'd be glad to help overthrow the syndicates. You're the future of your nation now, K'vor."   
  
He looks me in my eye. My real eye, I suppose he can't stand the glowing red cyber-eye right now. "I had hoped we could save the Empire before it came to this," he whispers. "My nation...my people..."   
  
"The Empire was screwed the moment Torg went to war," I tell him flat-out. "He was too stupid, too aggressive, too greedy, and too cruel. But the Federation--if I know the Federation Diplomatic Corps, we'll probably mostly disarm the Empire, but leave you intact, for the most part at least. You have a chance, K'vor, son of Tavok, to reform your nation and return it to greatness." I stand. "Don't fuck it up." 


End file.
